If I wanted to do a really short update, it would read as follows: I decided to leave the Peace Corps and live down at my dad’s house in Florida for awhile to figure things out. Sorry about the lack of updates – wasn’t something I wanted to discuss at the time. I’ll be back in New Jersey soon enough. Now you know.

But I’m rarely short about my updates, so I’m going to go into a bit more detail (though not in an hour-long TV special, thankfully). Now that I think everyone who I needed to tell personally knows that I’m gone, I can make it truly public news. I officially left the PC on November 5th, but I decided to leave more than a week before that. I thought about my decision, visited some in-country friends, travelled a bit, told the PC, and then spent five days in Tegucigalpa closing out my service at headquarters. It was quite an emotional time and I was trying to be as vague as possible in my blogging during it. I wasn’t ready to tell most people, let alone the world.

This blog was always meant to be more or less just a narrative of my life in Honduras and not a journal about my emotions and feelings and deep thoughts. I do want to share a bit about my decision to leave, however; I know that I am listed in the PC Journals directory and there may be readers out there who don’t know me personally and found this because they’re curious about the PC or are actually about to start their service or something (but I am not a role model). So I do feel like I owe a bit of an explanation, so I’ll give that little bit.

From the time I got to my site until I decided to leave, I was unhappy. It was nothing specific that I could point to; I was actually extremely happy with both my host family and site. I just wasn’t feeling good about my life in Honduras and there seemed to be nothing that could change it. I wanted to spend all my time alone. I didn’t feel like working. I was lazier than I’ve ever been in my life. I didn’t feel motivated. I was happiest in my room and ignoring everything in Honduras. I was frustrated at my lack of work but didn’t want to do anything about it. I felt kind of helpless and at a loss to start things. I started reading conflicting stories about development work. I was happiest when thinking about visiting home. I knew everything would just get worse as coffee season and the end of the school year both rapidly approached.

I was mostly in denial about all this, though. I wasn’t letting myself think too much; rather, I was just sort of soldiering on and doing the minimum I could to not feel even more terrible. But when the acquaintance I mentioned before died unexpectedly back home, that sort of triggered me to snap back into life and start considering my options. I wasn’t close with him at all, but it just made me start thinking about everything in my life and life in general. Once I started thinking about leaving the PC, it was all I could think about and I could immediately feel it making me happier and happier. When I started to actively hope for some kind of small-scale tragedy so I could be sent home and spare myself the embarrassment of quitting, I knew I was in trouble.

Very quickly, I talked to one friend (they’re my friends – thanks, Shannon) and made the decision to leave. I spent the next few days travelling, visiting my PCV friends at a nearby conference and talking to them about it. I stopped back in my site to tell my host family, who took it surprisingly well and considerately, and then went back out for the weekend to visit the Copan Ruins. There, besides seeing a new city and the ruins themselves, I saw lots of other volunteers I knew and had a very fun night out. Sunday night (this would be Halloween), I told the PC and first thing Monday morning, I was on my nine hour bus ride to the capital.

I was there (in a nice hotel with money each day for food and transportation) until my flight back on Friday morning. The PC is very thorough about medically clearing you to leave the country. After three full days of testing, providing various samples, having physicals, and passing exams, I was finally declared healthy and able to go back. I also had to do some administrative things, lots of paperwork and monetary issues. But it all went relatively smoothly and I was incredibly relieved and excited to be heading back on November 5th.

Instead of going home to NJ, I chose to go instead to my dad’s house in northern Florida. Back in NJ, I had no place to live and no car; in Florida, I had a soon-to-be-empty three bedroom house and two cars to choose from each day. I reasoned I could stay there a while (a few weeks to a few months) and live relatively expense-free while I figured out what to do next. This has worked out really well so far. I have both full-time and part-time jobs now (working sometimes up to 60 hours a week) and really only have to pay for gas and minimal food. I also chose to come here because I slowly told my family and friends that I was back instead of making big announcements immediately. I wanted to organize my thoughts and feel better about my decision, among other reasons. I was really embarrassed at first, and I still feel that glimmer of embarrassment now as I type this. But ultimately, I know I made the right decision. While I’m happy to be back, I don’t regret going to Honduras or into the Peace Corps at all. I hope to visit Honduras again within the next two years.

I’ve been applying to full-time teaching jobs back in NJ but so far nothing has even remotely panned out. I’m less frantic now that I’m working so much here and making money. While I’m going home to visit for Christmas and will probably go back once more to visit in March or April as well, I don’t think I’ll permanently move back until mid-May. I’d like to be back by then to get ready for all of Christa’s wedding festivities and be living in the state for June, when all the school budgets pass and I have the best chance at getting a real job. I definitely feel OK about this plan though, of course, it’s not exactly ideal. It’s kind of all work and no play here in Florida, but I’m fine with that and still enjoying myself because I like both of my jobs.

So that’s where it all stands now. Living in Florida, will be visiting up north soon, but then probably back to Florida mid-May. If one of the leave positions opens up in NJ, I would consider taking it so I could move back sooner, but it really depends on a lot of things (mostly the type of class and school district). For now, I’m just happy to have my jobs here and to be able to be home for Christmas. I hope that all is clear enough for anyone who did not know about my decision now.

For those people that I love very much in Honduras (or Clevelanders): I miss you guys a lot but I definitely am happier and doing much better here. I’m not sure I would have been a good person or PCV in Honduras and I’m OK with having figured that out early in my service. I’m happy to be home and I hope to see many of you again. I’m thinking the best time for me to come back might be early summer 2012, but we’ll see! Please continue to keep in touch and do amazing things out there.

For those people that I love very much in the US (really, mostly NJ): Thanks for understanding and helping me through or after my decision. I’m sorry some of you were kept in the dark for a bit, but I felt I had to do that. I cannot wait to see all of you in two weeks, so please please please make sure I make plans to eat some sushi, watch some football, or do other fun things with you. I’ll even help close buildings or something! It’s going to be a great week.

Finally, anyone I know and love is very welcome to come visit me here in Florida. My dad’s house is great and close to the beach and several airports. I recommend coming sooner rather than later (the house may be a bit crowded with family in February), but seriously, it’s an open invitation. It’s still pretty warm here and, of course, I have a season pass to SeaWorld so we can always do that. Just let me know!

A while ago, I starred a post by my friend Jesse, an H17 volunteer in MD who has a site on the beach in the north coast. I just remembered it now and realized I had starred it so I could post it here. I was going to try and use his idea and create a post explaining the flag, but I realized I'd just be rewording everything he said and there was no point. So for a quick, informative post about the flag (and mentioning venison, for my dad), go here and check out Jesse's blog. He's living quite the life up there, 3km from the water and right near La Ceiba...

Tortillas. Making excuses. Avoidance. Family. Treating everyone as family. Beans. Sharing. Spending the entire day doing not much and making it seem like work. Prayer. Support. Understanding. Parties. Smoothies. Perseverance. Taking their time. Lemonade. Civic acts. Parades. Pretending to forget things. Brushing someone off. Fairs. Coffee breaks. Giving rides. Pointing with their lips. Birthdays. Christian music. Frozen treats. Putting things off. Canceling at the last minute. Snacks. Dancing. Fundraisers. Chip-eating. Windy roads. Mismatching clothes. Smiling. Acceptance. Cleaning. Dealing with the rain. Not having shame in breastfeeding babies. Carrying things on their heads. Waiting. Driving manual vehicles. Bargaining. Markets. Patience. Introductions. Adding sugar to things. Cooking all day long. Men being macho. Friendliness.

Not so long ago, I hung out at a nearby hotel because a few friends were in town for a training. Actually, for Matt's training, which went super well. I visited the nearby big town to me and hung out with them while their training went on for two of the four days. It was wonderful and luxurious to take very warm showers (I can't quite say hot), watch TV (with a significant number of channels in English), and just feel good in a clean environment. I did a little bit of shopping and errands during the day and hung out one night with the group. I slept on clean sheets on a firm bed without a mosquito net. It was also great to see a bunch of H17ers, and not just YD! All of that, combined with the free meals, made for a lovely little break.

New pictures are up! I finally updated my Shutterfly site, going back and even working on the archives from 2005. Those are all updated, but the "Recent pictures" area has five brand new albums that I just put up. All the pictures are labeled, with the first three albums from PC and the next two from 2010 life before PC. They're all labeled and it should be fun to go through them all! Let me know if you have any suggestions or picture requests, as I already have some more to put up from this week. Also, the link will always be up in the sidebar if you want to go back at any time. Enjoy!

So two Friday nights ago I had my first experience with a Honduran specialty: mondongo soup. Mondongo, often used as slang for someone who has a fat stomach, is literally the stomach of a cow. The soup made with this part is really popular in Honduras, for some reason especially on weekends. People are crazy about soup here in general, but especially for lunch and especially on Sundays. I don’t really understand it and I’m not at all a fan. That’s part of the reason I chose to make my own lunches after a week here in Cisco; I didn’t want to be paying often for soup that I didn’t want. The soup here is generally not what I like, either: very brothy, with lots of huge vegetables and little flavor. I absolutely love any kind of chowder (mmm Weezy’s corn chowder), tomato soup (mmm with unlimited grilled cheeses at the dining hall…yup, reminiscing about dining hall food), or really flavorful brothy soups (mmm Gramma’s chicken noodle). But the soup here just doesn’t compare.

I’m not sure how I lived in Honduras for four months without being offered the soup, as most of my friends tried and hated it during training, but I did. I have no issues generally with trying things like that; I don’t see how a cow stomach is different from any other internal parts. Something like a hoof or tongue or eyeball would freak me out a bit…but everything else is just cooked parts inside. You can’t tell it’s the stomach by looking at it. But anyway, my family was really excited to give me the soup and it was actually the best soup I’ve had in Honduras. It’s a little bit thicker, as I found out they add some sort of coconut/milky mix to it. The vegetables in it are pretty tasteless but the actual soup is good. Finally, I came to the mondongo part at the end. I tried eating it three times but I couldn’t actually get a bite of it. It was too tough and they didn’t give me any utensils other than a spoon. It also had a very weird texture…the closest I can compare it to is octopus (as I’ve tried in sushi and not liked); it was chewy and slimy and not appetizing.

So I honestly told my family I really loved the soup but I didn’t like the actual meat parts. This was fine with them, and they eventually just threw the meat parts (complete with my teeth prints, I’m sure, if you looked closely) back in the huge pot with the rest of the soup. They’re very cool about me being honest and telling then what I don’t like…thank god for a Honduran family like that. Luckily for both of us, there have only been a very small handful of things they’ve made me that I didn’t like. Off the top of my head, besides the mondongo in the soup, I can only think of a few things they’ve made for me that I haven’t liked: this lemon drink (I actually couldn’t even make myself take a sip of it since it smelled, strongly, exactly like Pledge), a drink made from the fruit here called nanci (it’s really gross), these weird corn and bean circle things (looked exactly like cookie dough so I think that made it worse), and tres leche cake. So really, there are almost no main foods I don’t like. I’m not a huge fan of hot dogs (the way they make them) or rice, either, but I can eat them fine.

Anyways, thinking about this blog entry made me think it might be fun to keep track of a week’s worth of meals that are cooked for me here, just to give you guys an idea of what I’m eating. I’m not sure it will be that interesting, but we’ll see. It’s funny how being here has completely robbed me of the idea of having certain meals at certain times…everything goes here and I regularly have things like beans or pasta for breakfast. The only thing I resist is drinking coffee after about 3 or so, since I want to be able to go to sleep super early. Pretty much in every other way, I’ve adapted. So here is my last week of meals, minus the lunch that I prepare myself, with a little grade on my own subjective scale:

Friday

Breakfast: cornflakes with milk (and sugar), beans, tortillas, fried platanos, 2 hot dogs (I don’t eat the hot dogs)

Dinner: mondongo soup with vegetables (didn’t eat the actual mondongo), tortillas, pinol

Grade: C+, the breakfast was great except for the hot dogs but I really just dislike getting soup in general and pinol is not my favorite drink

Saturday/Sunday

B: platanos gloria (delicious: cooked platanos with orange juice, sugar, and cinnamon), pasta in white sauce with vegetables, tortillas, coffee

D: bass (the whole fish, right there on my plate), platano chips, blended beans with a bit of queso, tortillas, lemonade

G: A-, loved the breakfast even though it’s not traditional, I love getting lemonade and coffee, and the fish is a nice variety but so hard to eat with all the bones

Monday

B: beans, tortillas, half an avocado, fried plantains, chop suey (basically lo mein, but light on the soy sauce, which is so weird since Hondurans overuse all condiments and spices and flavorings), coffee, and a small piece of sweet bread

D: super flavored beans, tortillas, delicious cooked carrots, some fairly bland beef, lemonade

G: B+, pretty great breakfast but a boring, smallish dinner

Tuesday

B: 3 enchilada/Mexican tacos (called different things everywhere) – but it’s a tortilla prepared so it’s thicker and more delicious than usual and added on top are meat (these had ground beef), vegetables, spices, and a delicious sauce made with garlic; coffee with a small piece of bread

D: weird beans (darker in color than usual and less taste even though they were flavored), tortillas, soft/smooth queso (totally different from regular queso), weird cross between hot dog/sausage (one of the few things I also got in Talanga that was better there), chamomile tea, a sweet piece of bread pastry

G: C+, a wonderful breakfast but less than mediocre dinner

Wednesday

B: 2 hot dogs (didn’t eat), mashed beans, soft/smooth queso, tortillas, pinol, sweet bread pastry (lame breakfast because my host mom made it while tending to the pulperia alone since my sister went to San Marcos)

D: pasta in white sauce with vegetables, tortilla, lemonade (said no to beans)

G: C, worst breakfast in a while, pretty good dinner

Thursday/Friday

B: rice with warm, sweet milk (I actually love this), mashed beans, piece of something super similar to avocado but with less flavor, queso, tortillas, pinol

D: fried chicken, flavored beans, tortillas, steamed vegetables, lemonade

G: B+, all pretty great besides the fried chicken

Sunday/Monday

B: 2 tortilla sandwich things (thick tortillas, warm with chopped up pieces of ham, cheese, and vegetables), coffee, piece of sweet bread

D: beans, queso, tortillas, piece of chicken (didn't have much of an appetite), lemonade

G: A-, the tortilla things were delicious and new but dinner was eh

I tried to explain everything you might not know, so let me know if something still isn’t clear. I really can’t wait for my dad to visit so he can try a lot of these things! I think he’ll love eating like a Honduran. For my lunches, if you’re curious, I usually make 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or one and something else (apple, piece of candy, soda, poptart) or a cup of noodles. If I’m out, this varies a lot, depending on where I am and how much money I feel like spending and what I’m in the mood for. I’ve only got two weeks left where I’ll definitely be living with my host family (probably more like a month or two, but still), so I’m enjoying the food while I can. I’ll start worrying about health/weight/money when I’m living alone.

A few weeks ago, I found out Carlos Mencia is the most famous Honduran in America! I had no idea, but he was born in San Pedro Sula (the second biggest city here and one of the most crime-filled areas in the entire western hemisphere). That made me want to look up more about famous Honduran-born people (famous to Americans, that is) and basically…there are none. After Mencia, the next closest is a lawyer named Miguel Estrada, a man born in Teguc who was involved in some American political stuff. I hadn’t heard of him either. In terms of people who are of Honduran descent, there are a few: Hype Williams (born in NY but of Honduran descent), America Ferrera (born in Los Angeles but both parents were born in Honduras), and David Archuletta (born in Miami to a Honduran mother). Very unimpressive, Honduras.

I know how incredibly lucky I am to be able to truthfully type the following sentence: No one close to me has ever died. Really. I’m 24 and a half and have never felt like saying the word “devastated” in response to hearing someone has died. Sure, I’ve personally known people who died: two great-great-aunts, one great uncle, two good friends’ fathers and grandmother, one person I knew from middle school, and two Daisy campers. But I’ve only ever been to one wake/funeral (the middle school friend) and one other wake (best friend’s grandmother). In the last month, I can add two people to that luckily meager list: someone I went to high school with but barely remember and a distant acquaintance from a nearby school who was very good friends with several of my very good friends since high school. I’m writing this now because that second person passed away on Monday afternoon, unexpectedly, in a car accident.

This was on my mind all day yesterday, affecting me more than I thought it would and definitely more than I think I deserved. I took an angry, quick run; my thoughts were focused on death all day; I couldn’t do anything work-related at all; I finished a book (read it in a hidden part of the outskirts of town while probably trespassing to make sure I was alone) and watched a movie to give my mind a break (this might have all also had to do with the fact that I am, again, getting sick). All this thinking also made me realize that, for whatever reason, I’m frequently gone when this type of tragedy strikes people I know. While the relatives’ deaths all happened when I was little and the first friend happened in middle school, the rest have occurred only since I’ve been in college and almost exclusively while I was not in NJ. My best friend’s father died suddenly during my first semester away at college, another good friend’s father while I was living in San Diego, and these last two friends while I’ve been here in Honduras. It’s a weird thing to observe from afar. If anything, it makes you feel even more powerless – not that there would ever be much I could do if I were right with my friends now.

I also debated about whether or not I’d share this small story, because I don’t want to seem insensitive or take away from the people who really are devastated, but I found out about this death in a pretty bizarre way. Like I said, I’m getting sick and so when I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I was in more of a sleepy haze than usual. I decided to read my texts, which mostly consist of Facebook status updates. Judge me if you want, but I miss receiving texts regularly, I am trying to go on actual Facebook less, and the status updates get sent to me for free. It’s a win-win. But anyways, I read several updates from friends who mentioned the death and I was able to piece together who had died. It was a horrible moment, but I fell right asleep as usual. Then I proceeded to have the most symbolic but strangest dream ever. I think hearing about other people’s dreams is usually very boring, so I won’t get into the details, but it involved knowing of the person’s death and being with many of the people who were most affected, while combining elements of our past and current lives and a few completely random people.

When I woke up, feeling physically super crappy, I was also terrified. I was literally afraid to look at my phone and see if the texts were real because I wasn’t sure if I had dreamt everything. As I slowly got ready, I finally looked on the computer, where real Facebook updates and an email from Christa confirmed that it was all true. It was an incredibly weird and terrible way to start the day and realize everything really had happened. But, of course, I know my feelings mean essentially nothing comparatively and my heart is going out to the family of my acquaintance and all of my friends who were close with him. I’m sending my love and prayers as best I can from down here, and please let me know if any of you ever want to talk or there’s anything I can possibly do. I love you guys and wish I could be there. Rest in peace.

Everyone should know what the title to this blog means, just from being a person alive during the Will Smith era. This weekend was our hastily thrown together welcome party for volunteers in Ocotepeque. Each new PCV gets one night to sleep out of site during his or her first two months if it’s for an approved welcome party. Since no one was really planning anything special, a nearby friend Xiah decided to have everyone over Saturday night for her feria, to lure us into staying Sunday morning to march for the parade under the PC banner. It was fun; throughout the night there were about ten of us and the next morning several other volunteers joined us. I saw a bunch of people I hadn’t seen in awhile and met a few new people.

A few interesting observations: Xiah had over some other people, one friend she had known for most of her service and his wife and friend. Xiah’s friend and his friend were German and his wife was Peruvian. It was a very interesting dynamic, since all of us PCVs have English as a first language and Spanish as a second (or third). None of us spoke any German. Of the Germans, they both had German as their first language, but after that, one was better at speaking English while the other was better at Spanish. The Peruvian girl, who didn’t talk much at all the whole night, spoke Spanish best, then German, then could do a little English. It was fun, at times, to hear everyone talking and getting along and three languages more or less flowing easily. It seemed very Peace Corps-y, I must admit.

So was sleeping three in a bed (one person gave up halfway through and spent the night in the hammock) and on the floor. Xiah owns a goat, so there was that in and out of the house. We all had fun drinking, some of them went dancing, and we all stayed up several hours (for me, almost 5) later than usual. The next morning, we had an incredible breakfast of American-tasting coffee and banana pancakes with melted chocolate as topping and then headed to the parade. Towards the end of the route, my friend Stephen and I left first since he was going to go play in a soccer game in Senti. I wanted the ride and was not particularly looking forward to more parade marching in the oppressive heat. It was fun hanging out and then watching a bit of the soccer game, though I left soon after it finally started. It was almost like a Sunday back home, where I would have been watching my sisters play, although “with more Spanish cursing,” Stephen pointed out.

After that, I stopped in Senti to have a bite to eat with Matt and discuss our plans for the week, since I’ll be going to at least part of his training in Santa Rosa de Copan. I got my mail – my first package to my site, yay, thanks Gram! – and then got a ride back up to my site with people who, I think, were only going halfway up the mountain. But they took me all the way to Cisco despite my protests. One of the daughters in the back with me spoke fairly good English and I think they wanted us to talk, but she was pretty shy. But she really was pretty good. Most students who learn English learn it from people who barely speak English themselves, have heavy accents, and can only do things like say the alphabet or name colors. Between English and Spanish though, we were able to have an OK conversation. I was super exhausted when I got home late Sunday afternoon and after hanging out with my family and going to bed early, I let myself sleep in Monday. But it’s just about time to get all geared up for some more traveling, this time to Santa Rosa! After this trip though, I need to stop spending so much money. Maybe I’ll stay in site for Thanksgiving…we’ll see.

Random note: I kind of just realized how odd it is that my host family here doesn’t own a hammock. It’s so very un-Honduran of them. I miss hammocks and definitely look forward to having my own.

So every week I receive the statistics of my site visitors from the Sitemeter website I use to keep track of this. I usually just take a glance at the numbers and archive the email. For no reason at all though, a few days ago I took a closer look at my site’s statistics and found a few interesting things. First, I love when I can figure out who it is that’s reading my site, just from the country or exact location or domain. Sure, I have a lot of friends from EB and Rutgers that read my site, but I can only think of one person in Seattle (hi, Kat!) and one in King of Prussia (love you, Vani) that might spend more than a second here. Thanks, guys. I also thought it was pretty interesting that while 68% of my readers come from the US, only 2% come from Honduras, 29% are unknown, and then…1% are from Hungary (miss you, Blase). In terms of US cities, my readers are pretty spread out once you take away the vast majority from NJ. I recognize a few towns that other volunteers are from (I think Lisa’s, Margaret’s, Stacie’s and Brad’s families read, among others, so hello again!) and a few random clicks that I wonder about, such as Dayton, Ohio; San Mateo, CA, and Hamilton, MI. I grinned when I saw La Jolla, CA (love you, Liz). Finally, I have one reader from Uconn (hope you’re liking it there, Sam!) and one mysterious person from Louisiana Tech University that’d I love to find out more about.

For those who are reading that I don’t know in real life, I hope you’re finding whatever it is you wanted to know from my entries. It’s cool to think of the people out there I might be helping figure out what they want to do with life, or opening them up to Honduras, or even dissuading someone from applying to PC. It’s certainly not for everyone.

On Friday, I took a trip to a nearby city to see one of the PC-recommended doctors. There isn’t anything wrong with me; my skin has just been going a little crazy since I arrived in site and, with the best insurance ever, I thought it prudent to visit the doctor for free. Basically, if I get a prescription for face wash or whatever, the PC will pay for it. If I go out and buy my own stuff, I pay for it. All toiletry stuff is pretty expensive in general, so I thought this was a good idea. Plus, I also have had two weird white dot things on my eyelids for four or five months that I wanted to get looked at. After calling the PCMOs, they recommended to me a doctor in the nearby city of Ocotepeque (the capital and biggest city in my department of the same name). I was a little nervous, since they hadn’t checked out this doctor like they do for most and he didn’t speak English at all like some do, but they reassured me that several PCVs had seen him and liked him.

With vague directions, I set off for Ocotepeque after breakfast. I decided to go Friday since it wasn’t going to be a good day for me to observe in school and the only other thing I had was a meeting scheduled at three (this was, of course, later cancelled, bringing my total to nine of the last 11 work things I had scheduled). I had talked to my family and one other PCV that had been to Ocotepeque, so I felt like I had an idea of where I was going and what to expect. I was thinking I wouldn’t like it, since no one had said really anything positive about it. I had a very easy trip there, barely having to walk or wait. I even sat with a friend on the bus from Senti to the desvio of San Marco and made a friend with the not-so-creepy bus helper guy on the ride to Ocotepeque. He wasn’t so bad, but after telling him that I didn’t have a phone, I spent the rest of the time I was talking to him praying my phone wouldn’t ring. It didn’t and I got off the bus with him trying to convince me to come back on his 1:30 bus. Sorry, buddy.

So when I got into Ocotepeque, the bus dropped us off right in front of the market, which was nice, since the entirety of the directions I had for the office were “across from the market.” Thanks, PC. I decided I would walk in a square around the market first and only if I didn’t find it then would I start trying to ask for directions. Imagine my surprise when I found the clean, neat, labeled office right after turning onto the second side of the market! I was thrilled. I went in, checking in with a nurse who had dealt with PCVs before. She took out a loose-leaf piece of paper, had me write my name on it, wrote where I was from (using only my municipality but spelling it wrong), and took my blood pressure (normal) and weight (a little bit scary for me, since I had already eaten that day and was fully dressed, but whatever). She then gave me a number and sent me to the waiting room, where I was surprised to find, again, a neat, clean room with a working TV, comfortable chairs, and even a little slide for kids to play on. There was only a mother and child waiting with me. After a few minutes of chatting and me reading a magazine, she was called in. I went in about fifteen minutes later.

Dr. Jaime (that’s his first name so I don’t think I’m giving anything away here) did turn out, indeed, to be a very nice guy. He first wanted to reassure me that he was the PC doctor, which I had no reason to believe he wasn’t, and showed me a card he had from the PC along with reading out the names of all the other PCVs who had come to see him (including a few of their ailments, which is so unethical, but whatever). He asked me about how I was doing in general, took my pulse, and we chatted about Honduras and New Jersey for a bit. Finally, he asked me what I was there for and we talked about my skin and looked at the weird things on my eyes. After looking at my face with a flashlight and magnifying glass and taking a phone call, he asked me some weird questions, like how much exercising I did and whether or not I ate a lot of mantequilla. Finally, he started painstakingly writing down his diagnoses and prescriptions, once in his own notes (my loose-leaf sheet of paper), once for the PC (on a form they had given him in English and Spanish), and once on the prescription sheet for me to take to the pharmacy. But really, overall, I was very impressed with everything -- he also gave me his personal cell phone number. There was minimal waiting, it all felt clean, the doctor was nice and understandable, and I was pleased with the outcome. I was out of the office, following the directions given to me by the nurse to the pharmacy, less than an hour after I’d entered the city. Extremely good by both Honduran and American healthcare standards!

The pharmacy expedition proved to be a bit more challenging, but not unmanageable. I had to try four different places to get my three prescriptions (each place had one or none of what I wanted), two that the nurse had told me about and two that I just found walking around. All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to get to know the city. Everything was located off the main road, which was busy and interesting. I liked the city a lot more than I thought I would, and even found a few restaurants I want to come back to try when I’m not in a time crunch. Even with wanting to make sure I was back for my meeting at three, I had time to walk around a bit, so I took the main road down to that edge of the city, which was only a walk of a few minutes. But it lead me to the two different banks I use, the mayor’s office, and the central park – all good things to know the location of. When I made my way back to the bus station, after getting a cheap iced coffee, I chatted with the bus driver who told me they’d be leaving in about a half an hour. So I went off to visit the market, which was one of the nicest I have been to in Honduras, and bought some apples and strawberries. I went down a few more streets surrounding the market to check out the area, but it wasn’t anything especially interesting.

Finally, I ended up back by the bus station with still about ten minutes to kill. I decided I’d go and buy some of the melty chocolate to use with the strawberries, so I found a nearby place – it’s somewhere between a big pulperia and a small grocery store, but I can’t remember the exact word for it now – and grabbed that. It was while browsing that I found that cheap peanut butter and bought three jars. The owner even let me go to the bathroom there (with toilet paper!), so I was glad to be patronizing his place. I’ll definitely be returning there the next time I head over to Ocotepeque. I went back to the bus and we only left twenty minutes later than the bus driver told me, with him stopping by to say hi and that he was glad I came back for his bus. No problem. The ride back was slow and chilly, but I arrived in Senti with plenty of time to make it back up for my meeting…except, of course, I got a call that it was cancelled. At least I didn’t rush back and go all the way to the library, but seriously.

So instead of heading right back up with the bus to Cisco (which ended up leaving EARLY without me anyway, so crazy), I hung out at Matt’s for a little while. When I finally went back to the bus stop, expecting to wait for a while since it was the middle of the day, a man in a truck told me that he’d be back in a few minutes and was driving up. Thanks, mister. I chatted with the pulperia owners there (who I will always buy something from ever since they let me use their personal bathroom, do we see a trend here?) and then hopped on my jalon a few minutes later. I made it home right as the meeting would have started anyway. I spent the rest of the afternoon organizing and writing and filling out my reimbursement forms (my prescriptions cost over $16 but I’m not sure if I get reimbursed for the transportation) and being happy about my successful trip. I have only good things to say about Dr. Jaime and Ocotepeque.

You know what’s a great feeling? When you get a really good deal on something and then you go tell someone who will appreciate that good deal and you start by saying, “I found the cheapest peanut butter ever,” and they say “What, like 40 lemps?” and really it was THIRTY-EIGHT. It’s a real winning feeling, which I know my Gramma will appreciate. Plus, I’m now stocked up on peanut butter for a long while, even with eating it like crazy, as I have been lately.

On the other hand, it sucks to be overpaying for busses on account of being a gringa. If Hondurans ask me for directions (this has happened to me twice in the last few days, in cities I don’t really know), aren’t I blending in enough? Apparently not. I overpaid twice today, but after saving other money (the peanut butter, bargaining at the market, getting a few jalons), I didn’t really feel so bad about it.

Finally, I randomly found the blog of a PCV here from a few cycles ago…she’s a wat/san person who’s leaving pretty soon. I wanted to share her blog because I think it’s really good, very detailed, and captures a lot of things I’ve felt or experienced and hadn’t put into words. I won’t put the link up on the side, since that’s only people here from my training class, but I did want to offer her up as another Honduran PCV perspective. Her entries are VERY long (maybe they’ll help make mine appear shorter), so I know most of you won’t really read her, but you can just click through and scan and read the things that stand out – her lists, her conversations, her pictures. She’s got a lot of good, funny stuff and I enjoyed spending the last 3 days reading basically all of it.

You know what was always really annoying to me? How celebrities get so much free stuff. They go to awards shows or charity dinners and get amazing gift bags. Restaurants give them dinners and bars give them drinks for free. Fans send them presents and buy them things when they meet them. Designers send them free clothes all the time in hopes they’ll wear them. I think all kinds of product manufacturers send them things, so that the whole world will want their perfume because some celebrity once wore it. And some celebrities actually get paid to show up at certain bars, clubs, restaurants, parties, whatever. It’s patently unfair. They’re the people who least need to get things for free and they’re tripping over giveaways.

I was thinking about this the other day as I ate lunch with the teachers. Small digression: Based on my observations, it seems that about 50% of the time the school principal is not at my school, the teachers get lunch (this is in addition to the two recesses and snack break they all already get). They order food from a nearby housewife who makes food for them and take their sweet time eating it in one of the classrooms. In the past, I’ve seen them do this during the second recess, making it last double the amount of time, which was bad enough. But the other day, they actually shocked me: they sent the kids home early so they could really eat in peace. Yup. The second recess was a little late and I began to think, wow, maybe the teachers are really caught up in their lessons and more teaching is going on than usual. But then when they finally rang the bell for the second recess, all the kids went home and all the teachers gathered in one of the rooms to eat their lunch. It blew my mind…and I thought I was already used to most of these types of Honduran habits.

But anyways, for the first time I tried to pay for my lunch with the teachers that they insisted I join them for. The first few times lunch had happened, I was treated like a real guest and I didn’t know what was going on with the money. This time, with things being more casual, I tried giving money and they wouldn’t let me. I was secretly glad, of course, especially since I’m not usually crazy about the food they get and I’d be happier eating my own sandwich. But it got me thinking about the celebrity thing, even though this is not a good example of it. In Honduras, the teachers actually make a very good salary and are more well off than a large percentage of people – pretty much everyone except for doctors/nurses and true professionals who work in the bigger cities (who have more expenses then, anyway).

But in just about every other case of interacting with Hondurans, I’m the one better off. We were told that 60% of Hondurans live on a dollar or less per day, and this seems to be true based on just what I’ve seen and tried to understand about money and salaries here. Though the host families we’re generally put with are doing a lot better than that, and the people I regularly interact with (teachers, principals, nurses) are doing better than that, in general my town is called a “low-income village.” I imagine this means even more than 60% live on less than a dollar a day. With my PC stipend, I’m on the lowest level and I get more than $7 a day. This is in addition to my rent money, though most Hondurans don’t pay a rent or mortgage or anything. It’s a little mind-boggling; with just my two meals I take from my host family, I spend more than $2.60. It is true that often this is the only money I spend many days, but that’s because there’s really nothing to buy in my town. I usually only ever spend anything when I leave my site (and I like it that way).

Anyway, this is where the celebrity comparison comes into play: everywhere I go, people try to give me things for free. I try to refuse as much as I can, especially when it’s something I don’t actually want at all, but sometimes things are literally forced into my hands and, at that point, it would be rude not to take it. People stop me in the streets to give me oranges or other weird fruits. Every time I go into a house, I’m given some kind of drink and snack (usually coffee with little cookies or sweet bread). The kids at school all want to share their snacks with me and some even invite me to their houses. I’m one of the few people in the community who doesn’t really have to worry about money (beyond trying to decide if I should spend almost $3.50 on a bag of chocolate chips, one of my few real indulgences) and yet I’m treated to free things all the time. Some of it is just Honduran kindness and friendliness – they give coffee to everyone who visits – but no one else is getting stopped in the street or things pushed into their refusing hands.

I guess, in the same way as real celebrities though, it’s not like I’m asking for anything and there’s nothing I can really do about it. But it still makes me feel guilty from time to time when I think about it too much.

It’s taking me a lot of effort to try and be legitimately busy lately. I’m looking at my calendar right now and eight out of the last ten scheduled things I had in the past week were cancelled. These include story hours, English/Spanish sessions, youth group meetings, board of directors meetings, and a charla in the health center. None were done at all in advance (save for the lessons, since I make sure to seek out my friend that I have them with in advance), at least not to me, and it’s resulted in each day being different than I had planned. It’s not necessarily a bad or unexpected thing – we were warned about these tendencies since the beginning of training – but it does get occasionally frustrating. While I am enjoying having more down time than ever before in my adult life, it’s hard to not be able to be truly busy when I want to. Even I can only read and write and research (with slow internet) so much each day, especially in Spanish, and I’m trying not to watch too many movies or TV shows I have saved on my computer just yet. Apparently, this will get worse with coffee season approaching and the school year ending.

In unrelated news, I think my family set up some kind of wasp hive not very far from my door outside. Intentionally. It kind of freaks me out, but I haven’t asked exactly what’s going on with it yet. I keep my eye on the baby wasps every time I’m outside now. Also, I now have to check my sneakers for spiders before putting them on. I learned this the hard way. There seem to be more bugs in general around lately, but I’m pretty tough about it now.

Before this gets too negative though, what else can I add? It’s been sunny out lately, so it’s warmer and I’ve been getting lots of laundry done. I usually have lukewarm bucket baths now instead of ice-cold showers. I attended a prayer session thing last week, which made me think a lot about religion and gave me a free snack. I have all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies in my possession/in our pulperia, so it’s only a matter of time (which I have plenty of, naturally). My family at home is doing great. This week is our welcome party, for volunteers in the west, just a few towns over. This means we’re all getting together for a feria and I can drink for the first time in over a month. Next week is Matt’s training in nearby Santa Rosa, which means I’ll get to visit a lot of people I haven’t seen in awhile and maybe even get a free meal or two. Then, it’s already November…crazy!

From the book I'm currently reading, A Fraction of the Whole, by Steve Toltz:

"I mutilated many of my most coherent thoughts by putting them into words."

That's all for now!

Everyone knows what I mean there in the title, right? After just about any kind of vacation, sometimes you get the feeling that you need a few days of rest at home afterwards, to recover from your vacation. For some reason, this is even applicable after vacations where your main activities are laying out at the beach or reading on the deck. Well, that’s how I pretty much feel today. Three of my last four days have been spent traveling and otherwise not much else at all. On Friday and Sunday, I went to San Marcos, a small city nearby, for various reasons. I was successful in watching an HIV/AIDS charla, having some nice meals, paying my internet, getting keys made (again), using the 3G internet, visiting one of my sisters, and meeting some new people. They were mostly good days, save for travel issues one morning, with a lazy Saturday sandwiched in between.

Yesterday, I went to Santa Rosa de Copan, a medium-sized tourist-friendly city about an hour and a half away from my door, for pretty much the entire day. I wasn’t going for any particular reason, other than members of my family were going so I would have a free ride and spent at least part of the day with people who knew their way around. It ended up working out perfectly, and I really like that part of my family. The parents are great (the mom is technically my sister and the dad is the pastor I practice my Spanish and his English with) and the kids are cute, too (their four year old son has developmental delays and their 12 year old daughter is sweet). We left early and after dropping several people off and making a few stops (to fix a tire, to buy pineapples), we arrived in the city and they dropped me off at the central park.

Pretty much any town bigger than mine has a central park that’s a pretty happening place. Santa Rosa’s was no exception. After stopping at the ATM (I was down to what would be my last dollar), I basically just wandered around the city alone for four hours. Walking around/getting lost and un-lost are my favorite ways to learn a new place, and Santa Rosa was perfect for this. The streets weren’t in a perfect grid, but they were close enough. I had the central park and the main road to use as landmarks (though I didn’t understand exactly how the main road curved until getting home and looking at a map). There were even a few street signs, which is almost unheard of in Honduras. But I made my way to two grocery stores, a few other random places, and had lunch at a cafeteria-like place, with iced coffee from the fake Starbucks as dessert. When I was thinking about taking a bus home instead of waiting for my family, since I was sweaty and ready to go, I called up my sister and they were just getting back to the city. It was perfect timing. They found me in the street and picked me up.

Instead of going home though, we spent another several hours in the city and its outskirts together, which was fun but exhausting. We stopped to visit and see the apartment of two of my other sisters who go to college in the city. We went to the market, twice. We went to yet another, bigger grocery store. We visited where the other bus terminal was and then they got something in their car fixed. I went off on my own and ended up with more groceries and some thrift-store clothing. I was thisclose to finding cute rain boots, but the great place I found had nothing between a kids’ size three and a women’s size 9. Try as I might, I couldn’t make either work. But I did get another pair of pajama pants, finally, and lots of food that I’m excited to eat and maybe even bake with. I would’ve bought some DVDs (I really want to finally see the latest Shrek and Toy Story movies), but I don’t really have anywhere to watch them here, so I’m waiting. When we finally pulled away from Santa Rosa for the final time, it was getting dark. We got home at seven, I had a quick dinner, and then just rested until bedtime an hour later.

Today was that lovely vacation from a vacation that I was talking about. The only thing on my schedule was a health center meeting, which, as usual, was cancelled at the last minute. I had a good run (my first good one in five days) and it was actually a sunny, fairly warm day afterwards. That means laundry, of course. I washed some clothes and they were dry several hours later, which hardly ever happens up here in the cold, damp mountains. I also stopped by the school briefly to talk to Profe and then went to the library to check in with the librarian. I found out both of the things I felt a little guilty about missing (youth group meeting on Friday, story hour yesterday), didn’t happen. This is good and bad for different reasons, but it was nice to know I didn’t have to feel bad about all my traveling (albeit all within two hours away and never overnight). Hopefully the rest of the week will go better with the planned events.

After checking in with all of the above, eating lunch (peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then a red delicious apple with more peanut butter, yum), and making a bunch of phone calls, I spent the rest of the day quietly working. I caught up on the internets, finished reading some work stuff, started reading/taking notes on other work stuff, and did some preliminary planning for some of my upcoming projects…plus, of course, updated my slightly neglected blog. It was the perfect kind of day where I felt relaxed and at ease but still productive. Actually, the next few days should feel like that, before getting back into another busy weekend and upcoming week! All I know is that my next visit to Santa Rosa should involve a hot shower and seeing friends from my training group at the very least. Can’t wait!

So, with fingers crossed, I’m going to share a little bit about what I hope to eventually be my new home and whom I hope to eventually be my new best friend. First, the house. After talking to people and looking around Cisco, I came to the conclusion there are not many options for me for places to live. PC requires that volunteers live with a host family for a minimum of two months, after which they can decide what they want to do. I always planned on living on my own eventually, and this is still the plan. I had a good talk with my family about it a few weeks ago, where they reassured me that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted but that they understood I would probably move out. Really, the living with the host family hasn’t bothered me as much as I thought it might. I spend enough alone time, have my own space (with my own bathroom) separate from the house, enjoy taking my meals with them, and have company/help for the things I need to do. It would be completely ideal if my room were just a bit bigger. I’m kind of glad it’s not, though; if my room were bigger, I’d be tempted to stay here for my whole service and I don’t think that’s what’s best for me. Part of me does want to go back to living alone and I think the challenge of doing that here would be good for me.

That all being said, I was walking around down in Senti last week and a random guy approached me and asked me if I was the volunteer in Cisco looking for a place to rent. I affirmed and we talked and it turns out he’s somehow related to me (I think a cousin of a cousin), he and his parents live down in Senti, but they also have an empty little house in Cisco that they’d love to rent out to me. I was super excited. A few days later, the sister found me and brought me to the house. It’s pretty perfect. It’s a kitchen, big living room (already with hammock), bedroom (already with two beds, at least one of which they would loan me), and a small bathroom inside the house. That was great – the only other house I looked at, the one the volunteer before me had rented, had the shower and toilet outside. Plus the house was on the big side and deep down in the valley of the town, both things I wasn’t crazy about. But this house, my casita rosada (little pink house), was perfect. The sister showed me all around, talking a mile a minute about all the amenities (the round stovetop used to cook, the table and shelves in the kitchen, the flushing toilet, windows that open, electricity, the pila always with water) and excitedly assuring me they really wanted me to move in.

We exchanged numbers and I told her the only thing I thought the house needed was the special bars on the outside of the windows to protect them. I’m going to call her again next week so I can go back and look at a few more things (now I have a copy of the housing checklist from the PC and a sample rent agreement) and talk about more concrete numbers and dates. I want to test out the electricity and the different water supplies and talk about exactly what they’d lend me, among other things. Again, I’m really in no rush, but she had mentioned another family that was looking into renting it. I don’t know if this was to scare me or if it was true, but I don’t want to lose the house. Ideally, I’d like to move in January or February, once the holidays are over but before school has started. We’ll see what happens – if they insisted on December, I’d do it.

The best part of the house, though, I saved for last: it’s literally two houses away from where I live right now! I’d get to stay in the same neighborhood, be able to yell across a house to my host family, and visit all the time. I’m going to talk to them about still taking a meal or two with them after I move, too, or at least for the first month or two while I play around with Honduran cooking and grocery shopping and food budgeting. It’s not so easy to get everything you need when the closest grocery store is an hour and 2-3 busses away and you don’t have a normal stove, an oven, or a microwave. But I’m mostly looking forward to that experience…I figure it can only teach me and help me lose weight for Christa’s wedding, anyways. So wish me luck and hopefully next week I’ll have something more concrete to say about my potential new home.

And what of a new best friend? Well, I’ve put it out there in the community that I wanted a puppy basically since the day I got here. I was always thinking about getting one once I moved on my own and after my scary bus-stop evening with Jackson, I was fully convinced. I can’t wait to have a tiny puppy to play with and keep me company as I set up my new home. I’m super excited to watch it grow into a huge dog, and to completely spoil it. Well, tonight I had a great offer made to me. One of my sisters was over (she lives like 10 minutes away by car, the only child of my host mom not technically living in Cisco) and offered me one of the puppies her dog was about to have. Actually, she’s going to sell the puppies, but she offered me one for free and Pammy told me she wanted the dog after I left. This is super awesome in so many ways. I know my dog’s mother was well taken care of and it can stay healthily with the mom for a few weeks before I’m ready to take it and it’s ready to leave its mom. I’ll get a puppy for free. And, best of all, I’ll have someone to leave it with, someone that I trust, after two years (and whenever I go on vacation)! This was hugely important because I know I couldn’t take it home after my service (though lots of volunteers do).

I only saw my future dog’s father, but he was a pretty big dog. I can’t tell at all what breed he might be a mix of – not exactly a lab or a rottweiler (I really wanted one of these two types), but I’ll gladly take it. I think I’m going to go Saturday to their house to meet the mother (hopefully she’s even bigger) and we can talk more about when she will give birth and when I can take my puppy and if I can visit a few times to choose the right one and everything. I think I already have a name picked out, but I want to meet my little pup and make sure it fits and everything. I’m still torn on whether I want a girl or boy puppy…that’s why I’m hoping either the decision will be made for me or I can meet the puppies and decide from there.

So, I’ll say it again: Please keep your fingers crossed for me! It’s quite easy for things to not work out here in Honduras, with just about anything you think is a done deal. My hopes are already too high for both of these wishes…but I can’t help being excited and hopeful! Wish me luck and I’ll keep you updated.

So I’m pretty sure the internets have destroyed my concentration. Have you ever sat down to try and write something (for school, for work, something real) and not had the internet? I know, it’s a horrifying/foreign concept, but bear with me. I’ve been doing this a lot, since I like to go to the library to write up anything in Spanish. I won’t ever take my modem there because the computer has viruses and I don’t want many people knowing I have the modem anyways. Originally, I also thought this would work to my advantage since I figured it would help me concentrate better. I thought it would be great to be able to just write without having to check a million different interweb things every five seconds.

Silly, naïve me. I found my brain doesn’t focus nearly as well as I thought it would, especially when I’m writing in Spanish. I find myself doing anything to distract myself in between sentences or give myself undeserved breaks after writing a paragraph. I go to other files to check on stuff I don’t need to, I play stupid Windows games, I switch to writing things in English just for a minute. When I’m writing in English, it’s a little better – I get on rolls and don’t like to interrupt myself and I can focus for just a bit longer. But it’s still there, this need to only work for short moments and then do something else to break it up. It’s a really ugly habit.

I’m going to blame the internets for this, though they’re not completely at fault since there is a difference when I’m writing in English. But I’m wondering if people who used to do a lot of writing on the computer before having the internet have noticed a difference? Like, were you able to concentrate for longer back then but now find yourself checking Google Reader or Facebook statuses every few minutes? Or do we think it’s just my terribly-connected generation? Or is it just me? You let me know after you finish posting your Tweet and I’ll reply after my seventh game of Hearts.

"You're supposed to send people wedding gifts even when you can't go to their weddings? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard...I'm inviting everyone in the world to my wedding."

"I wouldn't do that to her. I love my girlfriend too much to get her pregnant."

To me, trying on a jacket: "I think you're cuter than that."

So, remember a few weeks ago how I talked about how I really loved my host sister Pammy? And that we got along really well and she reminded me of my real sister Kaitlin and that I worried about them in the same way? And that my weird feeling about her boyfriend was unjust? Unfortunately…that last instinct turned out to be completely just.

The other day, at the start of our run, Pammy told me she wanted to talk to me about something and asked if I could keep it a secret. She explained that in like four different ways (including the actual word secret in Spanish, which is secreto…pretty hard to misinterpret). Hopefully the Internets doesn’t count. But anyway, then Ses joined us and she said we’d talk later. I was immediately worried, thinking she was pregnant or someone was stalking her or other horrible things. But in the back of my mind, I kind of knew it had something to do with her boyfriend.

An hour later, over possibly the weirdest breakfast I’ve had in Honduras (a bowl of cornflakes with milk and a plate of pasta), she turns on the radio (since her mom was right over in the pulperia) and starts telling me this story. I’m struggling to listen, since the radio is blasting, but it’s a familiar-enough story and I follow it all: So Pammy has a good friend down the street. For a year now, she’s been getting weird and apparently graphic (though I don’t know exactly what that means here, she kept using the word for ugly, which could also mean gross or terrible) text messages from a number she doesn’t know. She tried ignoring them; they continued. She tried writing back nicely and asking them to stop; they continued. She tried writing back angrily and demanding they stop; they continued. When she finally called the number, the person wouldn’t answer. She would try calling him from other numbers and he would text her back saying he only wanted to talk to her. It was bizarre. The texts would happen everyday for a while and then stop for a week or two and then start up again. But there was no attempt to really talk or do anything; this guy apparently just wanted her to read these text messages (which, of course, are free for her to receive and cost money for him to send, making it even stranger).

You know where this is going, right? Her friend had been telling Pammy about this for almost a year and then she gave Pammy the number the other night, so Pammy could let her know if anyone recharged his phone with that number. Pammy looks at it and is horrified to find that it’s the number of her boyfriend of three years. She doesn’t tell her friend, doesn’t say anything to her boyfriend, and tells me the next day. Yikes, pressure. But if there’s anything I know how to do, it’s listen to friends with boy problems. It’s not even really any different in Spanish or in Honduras. It’s mostly about letting the other person talk, saying the same things over again, reacting the way they want you to react (this time, easy, since the reaction you’re looking for is being horrified and I was), and gently guiding her to what she already knows she has to do. It was all the same with Pammy, although I was worried that she would not be strong enough do everything she needed to do.

But she turned out to be awesome. She called her boyfriend that night, told him everything, vaguely listened to his stupid excuses, and told him she never wanted to see him again. He begged her to just let him come over and explain, that they couldn’t throw away three years, that the texts didn’t mean anything…and she refused. I am SO proud of her. I told her that several times today, when she was telling me about how it went. She was so strong and so brave and so adamant. She also then started talking about all the other bad things about him, which is great therapy in itself. Apparently, no one in her family really ever liked him or trusted him. He has an ex-wife and other children. He never went to church until she basically made him (which is very important to her). There was also some other weird texting situation about a year ago, where she saw texts on his phone and he claimed he had let a friend borrow it. All bad news, all the more reason she did the right thing.

Unfortunately, she’s now in that absolute worst time ever. All she can think about is him, she wants to cry all the time, she feels a million different emotions at once, she feels lost and like her life has totally changed. And really, besides talking about it and crying it out and trying to stay busy, we all know there’s basically nothing else you can do except wait it out. I think it’s even harder for her because she’s embarrassed about what happened (I know that feeling) and doesn’t want anyone to know, so she’s not talking about it with anyone else but me. Also, she shares a room with her mom (by choice), so it’s not like she can get away to have a good cry or anything. I tried to support her the best I could, even saying that if she ever wanted to borrow my room, I could be gone for hours in a heartbeat, but I doubt she’ll ever take me up on it. It’s hard to watch someone go through something like this and know that really, you can only wait. I can be there for her and talk to her about it and listen as much as possible…but it’s just going to take time. I did find out just a little while ago that she sort of talked to one friend about it, without giving any details, and her friend shared stuff about God with her. I don’t know exactly what that means (it seemed to me she was saying that God talks through her friend, but I’m not sure I understood correctly), but she said it made her feel a little bit better so at least there’s something.

She’s a really great person and I truly hope I can help her through this as much as I can. It makes me feel like she really trusts me and values my thoughts, which is a nice feeling in a crappy situation. Finally, it’s also a bit comforting to know that this kind of problem happens everywhere, in every language, in every situation. I guess I’ll have to learn how to say, “Men are just jerks” in Spanish.

Finally, a guide to the people I will be talking about here. These basically come in two different types: Hondurans and Americans. For most Americans, I use their real names unless they have asked me not to. For all Hondurans, I use some kind of pseudonym that’s usually pretty close to their names.

I don’t want to list all of the nearly 200 volunteers here in Honduras or anything, but here are some names I may be using/may have used a lot. These are volunteers I’m friends with or that live near me. In no particular order, here is a quick list of all volunteers’ real names: Joelle, Amy, Bryan, Matt, Luke, Dave, Stephen, Jesse, Kristin, Ashland, Greg, Aimee, Jenna, Camilla, Lisa, Stacie, Jen, X, Anna, Andrew, Monica, Heather, Leslie, Nancy, Isa, Mary, Kari, Ruth, Ben, Kate, Catriona, Mercy, Casey, and Amanda.

As for Hondurans, here are a few names I’ve used already (and I’ll add to this list as I refer to more people in the future):

Alexandra/Alex – my name here in Cisco!Allison – one of my counterparts, the librarianPammy – my host sister I’m closest with (reminds me of Kaitlin)Pastor – my uncle, the pastor of the nearby Evangelical church, we have Spanish/English time once a week to work on our second languages, he has an awesome son with disabilitiesProfe – my main counterpart, principal of the school, director of the library executive board, just an all around, really involved guy in my town even though he lives a few aldeas over (reminds me of Dennis)Rick – my PTS, he led our training, he’s awesomeSammy – my PM, she’s higher up, heads the YD programSes – my host cousin/niece that I’m closest with (reminds me of Samantha)Valerie – one of my counterparts, the main nurse at the health center (reminds me of my friend Nicole from Edison)Hope this helps too! It is also linked to in the sidebar for easy reference.

Here’s another list I think is helpful when reading my entries…and would have been more helpful several months ago, during training. Sorry about that. But maybe this list of my common acronyms and abbreviations here will clear some things up.AdminSep – Administrative Separation, a volunteer is being forced to leave because he did something wrongBus – Business, a project that trains in the other groupCD – Country Director, ours is actually about to changeCOS – Close of Service, this means a volunteer is finished with their service or had extenuating circumstances so will be getting this status even if they didn’t technically finishET – Early Terminate, this means a volunteer is quittingH17 – Honduras 17 (my training group, other training groups have other numbers)HIV – Health project group, which I think is officially called Health/HIV, trains with other groupHondu – HondurasMD – Municipal Development, another project that I trained withMedSep – Medically Separated, a volunteer has to leave because of a medical issuePAM – Protected Areas Management, another project that I trained withPC – Peace CorpsPCH – Peace Corps HondurasPCMO – Peace Corps Medical Officer, our doctors and nurses we seePCT – Peace Corps TraineePCV – Peace Corps VolunteerPM – Project Manager, our higher-up supervisor that we don’t see very often during trainingPTO – Program and Training Officer, a really cool guy that’s actuating as Country Director nowPTS – Project Training Specialist, our supervisor that basically runs our technical trainingSanta Rosa – there are a million Santa Rosas in Honduras (they are NOT creative with names here), but I will use this to refer to Santa Rosa de Copan, a big city about an hour away from meRPCV – Returned Peace Corps VolunteerSSO – Safety and Security Officer, our guy for all things related to safety and securityTeguc – Tegucigalpa (some people write as Tegus or Teguz)Valle – short for Valle de Angeles, a cute, tourist town near where we stayed in trainingWat/San – Water/Sanitation, project that trains in the other projectYD – Youth Development, my projectAgain, sorry this would have been way more helpful back during training! It is also linked to on the sidebar.

So I have been confusing some readers with using too much Spanish vocabulary in the blog lately. Sorry about that. I decided to put together a little list of some of the more common things I might use in the blog, things that are just easier to say in Spanish than explain in English. I’ll also put up a link on the sidebar of the main blog page so that you can always find this entry easily if I say something you don’t understand. I hope this helps and let me know if I forgot anything!

Aldea – a small village on the outskirts of a larger town, i.e. Cisco is an aldea of SentiAtol – a warm beverage made mostly from corn but that is surprisingly goodBalleada – a big, flour tortilla with various things inside, I like mine with beans, queso, mantequilla, and avacadoBarrio – neighborhoodBiblioteca – libraryBusito – small bus, like ones that can be privately rented or the one that goes between Cisco and SentiCampesino – farmer, someone who works the landCampo – a soccer field or a rural town/farm areaCentro Basico – technically an elementary school, but I’ll be using it mostly to describe my school here in Cisco, which has grades one through nine; Centro for shortCentro de Salud – health centerCharla – a short, informational talk/lecture, sometimes very formal and other times informally done, very common among YD volunteersCheque – good, yes, OK, I understand, got it, all fine, all well, great; frequently used with todo (which means all), as in todo chequeChocobananos – bananas dipped in chocolate then frozen, delicious and cheap but not found in my townComedor – small eatery, usually attached to someone’s house, less formal than a restaurantDepartamento – mostly equivalent to states in the US, there are 18 of these in Honduras, I live in OcotepequeDesvio – the entrance to somethingFeria – fair, but each town has their own the same 1-2 weeks each year, lasts a long time, stops everything else in the town, and is a big dealFinca – farmJalon – a ride from someone, usually free, technically what I guess is hitchhiking but extremely common place, accepted by everyone, and safe hereLempira – the system of money here, one Lempira is roughly worth five cents, the denominations of Lempiras go 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 50, 100, 500; there are also coins but they’re rarely usedLicuado – a frozen smoothie, very deliciousMantequilla – a creamy sauce that’s a mix between sour cream and butter; has a very distinct flavorMercado – market, can be very big or tiny, depending on where you areMerienda – snack, usually a given during any school day or important meetingMunicipalidad – the big area of a town; for example, the municipalidad of Senti includes Cisco and all the other bigger and smaller aldeas around itNancy – a gross fruit that I do not likeParque Central – the main park in a town, weirdly enough is often located in the corner of a town (rather than the center), but usually a happening placePila – the big outdoor water basin used to wash clothes, pretty much every house has onePinol – a warm beverage with the flavors of cocoa and other spices, good if you add a lot of sugar to itPisto – slang for cash Platanos – a fruit in the banana family but larger than a banana, delicious when fried, OK when bakedProfe – short for profesor or profesora, which means teacher (not necessarily a professor), but when capitalized I use it to mean my main counterpartPuchica! – an exclamation that basically means “Wow,” can be good or badPulperia – small, convenience-like store that is very common in Honduras, you can buy lots of different food products along with things like toothpaste, pens, and dish soapPupusa – meat and/or cheese inside of tortilla mix, fried and deliciousQue Le Vaya Bien – a very common expression said as a goodbye or when people pass in the street, literally means something like “You go well now,” basically comparable to “Have a good one”Quesillo – yummy, melty cheeseQueso – a hard cheese you sprinkle on things, not delicious but not terribleRapadito – smaller, nicer, more expensive busses that make fewer stopsSaldo – the money you add to your phone, since everyone has prepaid hereTranquilo – calm, relaxed, everything’s goodVasitos – frozen treats, could be flavored with just about anything, usually delicious but again not found in my townVaya Pues – a common expression to use to say goodbye or to get off the phone, literally means “Well, go”Yo Merezco – literally means “I deserve,” it is a girls’ empowerment program popular with YD and health volunteers; “Yo Tambien Merezco,” literally “I, too, deserve” is the newer program for boys that Matt basically createdI think that’s all for now…I’ll add more as I think of them or use them, though!

For the first and hopefully only time, I'm going to have multiple blog entries today. After a few recent comments, I've decided to put up three list entries that I think will be helpful for readers (both occasional and dedicated). The first list will be a quick Spanish-English guide to those words that I use a lot that confuse people. The second is a list of abbreviations and acronyms. The final list is people I mention/will probably be mentioning.

I'm also going to add a mini-list on the side bar of the main blog page that will link individually to each of these three entries. That way, if you're reading weeks from now (or back months ago), you'll always have all the lists one easy click away. Hope this makes reading easier and more fun. Please feel free to let me know if I should add anything! I will be going back to these lists occasionally to add or change things, too.

Three more tiny notes:

The first person from our group went home. Sad in some ways, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. She was in municipal development and we weren't that close. I'm still working on figuring out the whole story, but of course I hope everything is OK with her and her family. But, H-17 is still 98.2% here, which is still impressive.You can add my cousin's girlfriend, Caroline, to my list of Honduran twins...but unlike the others that mostly just remind me of someone back home, she really does have an almost twin. I literally did a double take the other night, I was so thrown off by her. Appropriately, I think she is my cousin (or niece, depending on how I look at my family here).I said my first "no" to something a Honduran person (my nurse counterpart Valerie) asked me if I could do. This was stressed -- being able to say no to things -- a lot to us, by training officials, other volunteers, and sometimes even our counterparts themselves. It's OK to say no and it did feel good, because I know I would have been full of anxiety if I had said yes. I am in no way ready to give a charla to pregnant women, nor do I want to. I was also surprised because I was asked if I would do so right after I had changed around an entire section of my work plans (also completely moving some dates way up) to accommodate Valerie and her plans. But hopefully she won't hold it against me and understands.That's all for now!

Today, I hung out for a bit with Matt, Luke, and a third volunteer who had come in to visit from Copan. We sat around just talking for awhile before we parted ways – they went to go eat and buy beer and I headed to my bus stop to get back to Cisco for dinner. I really enjoyed their company, we all got along really well, and it made me start thinking about why I enjoy hanging out with certain people. The biggest thing, for me and I think for most people, is conversation. There are a lot of other factors that can affect how you feel about time spent with others, but I think the different aspects of the conversation are really what sways someone one way or the other.

It got me thinking about the people I like talking to at home. I realized it’s not only the high-quality, deep, thoughtful conversation you want with the people you really like. As for the people who I can sit at a table with after dinner for several hours talking and laughing and fighting over things, it’s mostly about the variety of the conversation (and copious amounts of wine certainly help). We move easily from shared past experiences (usually elementary school variety) to sports to current events (some serious, some regarding internet memes) to real, deeper subjects (politics, emotions, religion, philosophy, our futures). At the same time, the conversation can easily move in and out with just gossiping about people we all mutually know. It’s comfortable, it’s easy, it’s fun, it’s thought-provoking…and most of all, it makes me laugh. When I'm with other people and it's awkward and quiet and I am looking for something to say, I find myself thinking back to conversations with others that were so fun and interesting. But it's never the same and it's sad to think that you can be around people you love (in a family way) or respect and not be able to have good conversations with them. It's just so much easier with some people.

With the guys from today, I felt that great easiness. We easily mixed into conversation gossip about other volunteers, our futures, shared past experiences (I didn’t really have any of these with them, but they had them with each other), funny stories, and in-depth discussions about religion and government. It was all those things I mentioned above, with a lot of the laughing and a lot of thinking about friendships. It also made me realize another critical thing: I am liking the other volunteers I meet a lot more than I thought I would.

This past weekend was a good time, with a nice mix of solo adventures, meeting other volunteers, cultural/Spanish time, and just a bit of relaxation. In other words, it was pretty perfect. I had a lot of fun while still feeling productive and resting up. Saturday I slept in just a bit (woke up a few minutes before six) and decided not to run, for the only day last week. Instead, I got ready to make my first solo trip to San Marco. I left the house a little later than I wanted, around eight, since my breakfast took forever to be ready. But I won’t actually complain about the food/service here in my host family…they are pretty awesome all the time. I ended up walking all the way down the mountain, since there was no one driving on the road. It was a little weird, but I had planned for that to happen, just in case. After a quick stop at my banking agent, I luckily got a jalon all the way to the entrance of San Marco (instead of the entrance to Senti) from a really nice guy who knew lots of other PCVs from the past. When he was telling me about one volunteer from the 80s, he was very amused when I told him I was two years old at the time.

I finally made it to San Marco around 10 and walked right to the Banco Occidente, the bank where I needed to pay for my internet modem (which had been shut off Wednesday night). This led to an intense series of frustrations, some of which, sure, I should have expected, but others were so ridiculously ludicrous that it really made me angry. First, the bank is attached with a Western Union. Which shouldn’t be a big deal…except for several very important facts: 22% (22%!) of the Honduras economy (I don’t know how to phrase this in economical terms, but you should understand what I mean) comes from money sent from the US. That is an incredibly huge amount. Think about it…for the average family, more than a FIFTH of the money they make in a year is just sent to them from family members in the states. Crazy. Also, the bank was about an hour away from closing until Monday. The Western Union and actual bank tellers are all mixed in one big line. So…after several false starts, I finally realized I did indeed have to wait in the big huge line of people waiting to get money from Western Union, even though I just wanted to give the bank my money. I waited over an hour.

Finally, I get to my teller and luckily I could understand her (except when she kept saying money amounts, then she talked too fast) and she could understand me. But more frustrations: There’s a random $7 charge because it’s the first time I’m paying for my modem. Fine. I can’t pay with check because my checks are from a different bank. OK, whatever. But here was the thing that was super annoying: you can’t pay more than one month at a time. For no apparent reason. You have to go and repeat this process each month. I WANT to give them their money and they won’t let me. It’s ridiculous. I was talking to people about it after and no one understands, because people don’t pay bills here all the time. It’s super hard to get people to pay for things when they have no real address, and no credit cards, and live up in the mountains, and just don’t care if they keep getting final notices or whatever. And here I am, trying to pay for a few months so I don’t have to repeat this every week, and they won’t allow you. That killed me.

But after I finally got out of there, the day was all good. I met up with Luke, the only other YD volunteer in Ocotepeque, and another PCV at the smoothie place I love so much. We only had like an hour to talk (we should have had like twenty minutes, but he kept missing his bus because he didn’t really care that much about getting back) but he was definitely as cool as people had told me. After the guys left, I got my bearings and then went off. I stopped by the market, where I only ended up buying ice cube trays, which I probably won’t use until I’m in my own place. I looked at light jackets/fleeces and rain boots, but decided to wait just a bit longer. After the market, I went to the giant school supply story, which I was not prepared for at all. It’s actually a 2-story store with an abundance of school supplies, appliances, tools, clothing, and home goods. Now that I’m thinking about it…it was basically Sears. I was totally overwhelmed.

But it was a good kind of overwhelmed. When I left, about $11 poorer, I had tons of charla paper, markers, a few notebooks, construction paper, and lots of laminates to decorate with. It was exciting, to think that now I am actually capable of doing some work. It was also good to get an idea of prices for appliance-like things I might want in my house soon enough. That’s an entry on its own, but I think I may have found where I’m going to live when I move out. I don’t want to get too excited or too ahead of myself until I have something more concrete than a random relative’s word, though. After that adventure, I walked around San Marco a bit more, sampling some internet sites and doing some random grocery shopping. I did find a place with fast internet, but my thumb drive wasn’t working there so it was mostly useless. I also found real peanut butter, at a really good price, so I bought three jars. That was pretty exciting – I know, quite the life here. I finally made it back to the entrance just as the bus was about to leave, so it was perfect timing.

The ride back to Senti took awhile though, since for some reason we stopped at the high school to wait for the kids to get out of school. It was annoying, because I was just far enough away to not want to get out and walk and instead had to wait. After I got off, I went right to get my mail from Gram and Bop and found my banking agent store closed. It was finally time to head home, so I got to the bus stop to head back up the mountain just after five. It was still perfectly sunny out, streets with lots of people on them, a busy lively town. I even had Matt’s dog, Jackson, to keep me company. All I needed was the bus (which I thought might be done for the day) or a jalon back up.

An hour and a half later, I was still stranded at the bus stop. A few cars went by, but only one went up to Cisco and it didn’t want to give me a ride. It’s getting dark and the little girls that were keeping me company left, although the one did tell me I could sleep over her house if I couldn’t get a ride back. Cute, but not very helpful. Really, thank God I had Jackson or I would have been completely a mess. As it was, I eventually called Matt to make sure he wasn’t coming back that night (he wasn’t) and was starting to weigh my options. I really didn’t want to call anyone else and look like the dumb Gringo stranded a mile away from her own town…but when the bolos came, then I really did start to think about calling. I saw my sister go by on a motorcycle a few minutes later (also not helpful) and figured she’d call when she got back home. I didn’t know what to do and was starting to get a bit freaked out and then finally I was saved! Two really nice guys gave me a jalon back up, even insisting I sit up front with them so I didn’t have to ride in back with the bolos. I think that was the most relieved I’d ever been in Honduras (though if I had been able to attend my fantasy draft, I think that would have been better). When I got back to my house, I saw the missed calls from my family but all was well. They thought it was pretty weird I waited for over an hour and a half for a jalon too, even it was a tiny bit on the late side.

The next day, I tried sleeping in to no avail. I was up before seven and ate breakfast before going on a pathetic run. I had decided two weeks ago to do my usual long, slow Sunday run as a loop around my town, which was not very far but involved an incredible amount of big hills. The first time I did it, I was impressed with myself for doing it just under a half an hour, with less than 4 minutes of walking time (3 of those 4 minutes on the biggest hill in the world that I usually take a break on when I’m walking up). This time, I just couldn’t do it. I started walking after twelve minutes in. Lame, but at least I did a good run today to make up for it.

I spent the rest of Sunday visiting with my counterpart from the health center – we’ll call her Valerie. I had talked to her about wanting to try to visit all the churches in the area and she said I could go with her to the Catholic church anytime I wanted, but that the first Sundays of the month were best, since that’s when the priest from Senti comes. After meeting almost her entire family (parents, son, and three out of four siblings), we headed over to the gorgeous, huge church, which is right by her house. It’s also literally next door to the library and just before the school. You can see it from all over town and it really adds a pretty touch to the sights here in Cisco. Anyway, the service was slightly more interesting than the one I went to at the Evangelical church two weeks ago. I could follow a little bit more of what was going on, just because I am familiar with what happens in a Catholic church at home, but I was still lost a majority of the time. Some things, like the way the official people were dressed and all the standing/sitting/kneeling, were the same, which was comforting. Other things seemed very different, like when only a few small group of people could get communion and that there wasn’t much singing in general (opposite in this way to both the Evangelical church here and the Catholic church at home). Still, I’m glad I went. I saw some new faces and people got to see me. At least this time I wasn’t given a big welcome in front of everyone, even though I had met the priest before we started. I was glad for that.

After church, I went back with Valerie to her house to hang out a little bit, chat, and drink coffee. She has a really cute house, made just for her, right near the house of her parents and all her brothers. She’s really fun to listen to and I really like her company, even though she might be the most pushy of my counterparts (which is interesting, since anyone who knows them would think Profe was much worse). The rest of the day was spent relaxing and working on paperwork. For some reason though, I couldn’t fall asleep last night and I ended up getting up just a bit later than usual today. Therefore, I ran and ate and got ready later and didn’t go to the school, but this ended up working in my favor. Instead, I was able to meet with all three of my counterparts and finalize my work plan for the next two to three months. More feeling productive…and pretty soon, I might actually start being productive. We’ll see (a phrase I use all the time here)!

So here are a few random things I wanted to bring up that didn't quite fit into other entries:

I found two more Honduran look-alikes here! One of the older school girls here reminds me of my friend Sierra from work. She's beautiful, with gorgeous eyes that make her appear older than she is and a great smile, and has fantastic hair. All just like Sierra. Also, this afternoon, I found myself constantly drawn to watching this little girl. I finally realized she reminds me of my baby sister Hannah. It was mostly in the way she looked at things. Hannah is awesome, quite the character, and this girl had the same curious, suspicious, wandering eyes that Hannah does. The little girl was never looking straight ahead, but was always fixed on something else, always as though she was evaluating something (and, of course, finding it lacking). I loved it. She also just generally had some of Hannah's facial features but I wasn't sure what exactly. I definitely want to talk to her sometime and see if her personality comes through the same way. First, I'll have to find out her name.I found out during a jalon yesterday that there are apparently two other Gringos living in my tiny site. I have yet to meet them but am trying to. Completely coincidentally, I found a website one of them has today! Check out here to see a few small pictures of Cones along with some great details about it. I couldn't believe someone had a site about Cones!I got my first letters in-site from Grandma! Thanks! I think they came fairly quickly, so that's pretty exciting. I have yet to receive a package here. I also sent out an email, finally, with my address here in Cisco. I had thought that I sent that out but I was wrong. Anyone who wants to send me something, just let me know and I can forward you the email. EDIT: One of the letters was from BOPPY (not both from Gram)!! Hugely exciting. Thanks, Bop!! I met two other PCVs in Ocotepeque yesterday in San Marco (including the only other YD PCV here) and hope to be meeting more on Tuesday at Matt's. It's definitely a great network of people.I found out that San Marco has 3G and is safe enough to sit outside at a cafe with your laptop out! I will be testing that out soon and hopefully being able to successfully chat (rather than just send random messages and hope they go through) and maybe even video chat. I'll let everyone know when that should happen.My forgetting to wear a Rutgers t-shirt last week was apparently NOT the reason we lost. I wore one yesterday and...that atrocity of a game happened. Oh, Rutgers. My heart goes out to you in more ways than one this week.It seems as though I'm back in posting mode, so I will try to get a real entry up about my trip to San Marco from yesterday and my second church visit from today soon!

As I was sitting in two different second grade classes last week to observe, I had a lot of thoughts that I wasn’t proud of. First of all, I found it really hard to concentrate. I guess since I was having a bad week and feeling unproductive and just generally in a bad mood, I just wasn’t fully present at all, either day. My mind kept wandering and I was more bored than I usually find myself in classrooms. It brought me back to my earlier (pre-College Student Affairs) days in the GSE, when we would have to do random observations. They would always be in regular classrooms and I would always be completely, totally, fully bored out of my mind (actually, the few times they put me in a resource room as an attempt to show special education, I was even more bored).

When everything is in Spanish, this makes paying attention even harder. Think of a really boring work meeting or class. Your mind jumps around all the time and you have to consciously remind yourself to stop and pay attention to what’s going on. This happens in Spanish too, except it’s a thousand times harder to come back. My second grade classes were fairly easy to follow, but I sat it on a meeting of the board of directors (really, just three guys who felt like showing up plus the nurses) at the health center last week too. That was hard to follow in general, since the topics really ranged and there was no agenda. But then, when my mind would wander, I would lose the conversation completely. If I missed just a sentence or two, the conversation was changing directions and I’d have to remind myself to try and pay attention, try to figure out what they were talking about, and then attempt to keep up the conversation, nod appropriately, and not start to daydream again. Most of the time, I got really lost and would just give up for a few minutes (an act that I discussed with another PC volunteer today who said it was “really kind of great, actually”) because it was futile.

Anyway, that was sort of a side note. I’m not proud of my mind wandering, but I think that’s pretty normal stuff. Really, I was worrying because being in those classrooms made me want to teach regular education back at home. All I could think about, especially in the second classroom, was how much easier and more organized and pleasant it would be to do the same thing back in the states. I didn’t like student teaching for my regular fourth grade class one bit, but it seems immensely more pleasurable than teaching at any level here in Honduras. I loved working on my lesson plans back home and seeing how the lessons worked and reading through the different books and grading and designing projects and watching the kids interact…I liked all of this, just not the actual day-to-day teaching and dealing with regular kids. But being in the second grade classes was just depressing. One of the teachers was leagues better than the other (which made it hard to write their feedback form together, but I managed) and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how well she’d do in an American classroom. I couldn’t help myself from comparing everything to the way it was back home. The longer I was there, the more I wanted to just come home and teach at the elementary school I was at down in Monroe.

This is sort of related to how I’ve said that everything will seem easier when I come home, because it will be in English, but with a shameful spin. Sitting there in the classroom…I just wanted everything to be easier. I saw myself teaching in the future because it was something I could do, and I think fairly well, but mostly because it would be simple and such a relief after living here. It’s embarrassing but I wanted to write about it to sort through my own thoughts. I didn’t come here because I wanted the easy way, I came here (at least in part) because I wanted to be challenged, to do things that weren’t easy, to learn to do things better with limited resources, to push myself. I guess after two years here I might feel like it’s OK to do something because it’s easy when I get back…but certainly not after less than a month in site.

But I’m not freaking out too much about this, since I still don’t actually want to teach regular ed when I get back. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would definitely be a back up (I might even prefer the unpredictability of subbing to that) and that I most definitely still want to work with people with special needs. When I think about how rich and equipped my classroom would be (if I were to work basically anywhere suburban in the US), I can definitely see myself teaching special ed and really enjoying it, at least for a few years. This is something I was unsure about before, and I’m glad to feel this way now. Part of coming here was also to learn more about myself and what I wanted to do with my life (I honestly wrote about that in my aspiration statement), and at least I’ve started along that journey. I knew it wouldn’t all be pretty.

So I haven’t posted much this week – and this is getting put up later than the date above, sorry – and there’s really no excuse other than I guess there wasn’t too much to say. I was not in a great mood the beginning part of this week. I was still not feeling great emotionally after being sick and then I wasn’t feeling very productive with work things. But today was a bit of a turning point and I’m starting to feel better. After observing at the school this morning, I was walking home for lunch when I got a text from the librarian stating that she was sick and someone else couldn’t come later that evening so there would be no youth group meeting.

This was not at all surprising. The meeting the week before had been cancelled because of the literary fair and the week before that I couldn’t go, so I’m not sure if the meeting even went on. Also, the librarian had been sick the day before (so the library was closed all day). This was fine with me, since I wasn’t really looking forward to sitting in on another awkward meeting. But I had really wanted to work in the library. Both Profe and the librarian had been telling me they would make me copies of the keys to get into it so I could come and go as I wanted to use the computer (which has an updated of Word with a Spanish dictionary, essential when I’m writing anything in Spanish), but of course, they hadn’t yet. But I got the key and proceeded to work at the library on my own.

It was pretty awesome. First, I had the whole library to myself, which was just cool and relaxing. I played music (I had neglected to put anything on my thumb drive but for some reason the computer there had lots of Coldplay, so I went with that over Spanish music) and could take breaks at my leisure, without feeling guilty. Plus, there weren’t a million kids staring and me and watching every single letter I typed…which definitely gets annoying after about three seconds. So I worked for a few hours in the library alone, finishing my work plan, almost finishing my feedback to the second grade teachers, and writing my survey for families of kids with disabilities. It was very productive and I worked on a few of my own things too, just because it was nice to have a big computer to type at.

When I went home, timing everything so I got back just before dark and in time for dinner, I felt really productive and accomplished…even if just in writing. It was what my mood needed though. Tonight, I feel as though I deserve to relax just the tiniest bit. Hopefully I’ll get to show everything to my counterparts early next week and then we can actually start moving on some of the things. We’ll see!

From my fun conversation with Matt yesterday as I caught him up with the sports world of the last year (and, to a smaller extent, the last five years): "You realize you're starting every sentence with, 'Well, you know what happened with LeBron, right?' or 'Well you know the story with Brett Favre, right?' or 'You know who Rex Ryan is, right?' or 'Of course, they won the World Series last year, you knew that, right?' Why don't we just skip right to your second sentence and take each point from there."

I don't think I'll ever let my sports knowledge get so bad!

In other news, I finally got to Sensenti today to mail a letter to Grandma, go to my banking agent (3 times, since the first time he didn't have money and the second time he didn't have enough), stop at the plastics store (got a plate but they didn't have ice cube trays), print stuff and use the internet (at first, pretty fast but without Flash so mostly useless but they did do an OK job of printing without robbing me too badly), copy what I printed (very cheap to copy here, about 3 cents), eat lunch, and hang out with Matt. It was a good day, made possible so early because my morning meeting with Profe was canceled. We rescheduled for tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes.

Finally, congratulate me for winning some money! I successfully picked 12 NFL games this week (with spreads!) and won the Soldano pool! It definitely makes up for me losing their suicide in the first week and...the money sounds like a LOT LOT LOT when translated into lemps. Small consolation for missing another fall weekend, though...

Being that I’ve stayed cooped up in my room for the majority of the last four days, I sort of accidentally gave myself a long break from Spanish. I read in English (finished two books), wrote in English (see: this blog, plus many emails), spoke in English (several phone calls home and to other PCVs), and watched English TV for the first time since I’ve entered the west. On the two sicker days I had, I barely left my room other than for meals, so my interaction with my family was minimal, too. I didn’t mean to break from Spanish, but I think my brain probably wanted the break as much as my body was craving the comforts of home.

Of course, realizing this today made me start thinking more about Spanish and language-learning in general. My miraculous leap from Novice-High to Advanced-Low (Did I mentioned that I somehow scored advanced on my last interview, even though I thought I did very poorly indeed? I still don’t believe I really deserve it…but, sorry Manuel, I’ll take it.) over eleven weeks proved I had a great deal amount of latent knowledge hiding in my brain. It just took weeks and weeks to get it out, for it to be in a usable state. My random memory during one of my last Spanish classes in Talanga of the word for skyscrapers, a word I had not said aloud in probably ten years, was impressive but not exactly helpful here in Honduras.

I also got to thinking that Spanish (I think really any second language) seemed so abstract, back when we were learning it in school. Vocabulary is vocabulary (meaning clearly memorization, with occasionally cool tricks or cognates to help the process), but the verbs just seem like memorizing a million rules. You learn this way and that way to conjugate, there are some ways to translate and others where you can’t (i.e. Spanish uses two past tenses), but overall you’re memorizing a bunch of things that have no real meaning to you. It’s the same for the other aspects of language you have to just learn by rote and practice: that most adjectives get put in front of nouns, what’s the difference between por and para (both commonly translated to “for” in English), how to roll your R’s. You memorize and practice and learn, but it’s all to do well on a test or not embarrass yourself during an oral in front of the class. It has no meaning, even though you know there is meaning to some people. But even when you hear others really talking in Spanish (not just your teacher carefully enunciating things you can understand), it’s too fast and complicated for you to follow at your level. Maybe I was just a bad Spanish student, but that’s how I felt.

Until I came to Honduras, of course. Here, Spanish is full of meaning. You realize that each and every verb tense (and sometimes there seems to be millions; just look at the size of the popular 501 Spanish Verbs book) has nuances of meaning that matter to the person listening and the person speaking. It’s the way that they talk, it’s the way they communicate, it’s just the way they naturally sound. No one here thinks about using imperfect or participles or subjunctive. When Spanish speakers are talking, they simply do use them, so that someone else can understand them. Even vocabulary takes on a slightly different meaning, since everything is colored through culture. We never learned the word cheque back in class because it only really means something to Hondurans. We never learned the thousand different ways to use the verb andar because it can be used to mean so many different things depending on when and how you’re using it, depending on who you’re talking about, depending on what real verb you’re substituting it for. And then, there’s just the cultural, rural way of speaking that you should be aware of, and understand, and be able to replicate in part, but to always remember the right and wrong ways to say something in Spanish. You could make the argument that the culture part is the most interesting part of language learning…or at least, a linguistic anthropologist would.

I’m not sure if all that makes sense, or maybe I was just really dumb back in middle/high school, but it definitely took coming here to make Spanish feel real to me. Obviously, it’s a whole lot more useful here, but it was a change in my head, not just in my environment. I’m going to start actively immersing myself a little more, reading Spanish books and magazines and spending more time with my family. I know, too, that I’ll be naturally more immersed as I start to do more than just observe in my community. I did enjoy this little four-day break (minus the sickness part) from life here in general as well as Spanish in particular, but I need to get back in. I do want my Spanish to improve even more by the time I leave. And I’m not any closer to that goal when I read a Jodi Picoult novel, talk on the phone to my dad, or watch an American TV show. Not that I’m going to give up any of these things…but at least now I have it in writing that I know I need to work harder to improve and keep myself immersed in this amazing language and culture I find myself surrounded by. I hold myself accountable to that.

EDIT: This blog post is even a little more relevant, as most of my readers are currently watching the Jets-Miami SNF game, which is partially in Spanish to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month!

Like most people, I have a brain filled with useless knowledge. I have an incredibly random memory, which can recall the lyrics I learned in elementary school to a song about Eli Whitney but not the name of a single person I met yesterday (granted, they all have a minimum of three names, usually ones I’ve never heard of before, but still). I can easily rattle off entire plot lines of Saved by the Bell episodes, tell you about the code I made up to transmit information about the whereabouts of my aunt’s cat when I lived in Edison, and can name almost all the members of any class I’ve ever student taught or been a teacher’s aide in. I’m not particularly proud of these memories, nor am I likely to ever benefit from their knowledge. But it seems as though they’re in my mind to stay; for now, I can only hope that I might somehow begin to spontaneously recall lessons from the Spanish classes I had from continuously from sixth to eleventh grades.

But anyway, I started thinking about all of this because when I started to plan this entry in my head, I knew just exactly to whom I would compare myself when describing my sickness this week. It comes from the largest section of my brain indebted to worthless trivia. Not House storylines (I’ve completely forgotten lots of things that happened from the first two seasons, which I saw in a blur over a two week period), football facts (though I actually actively work on this area of knowledge and it doesn’t end up being worthless, if occasionally impressing guys and even more occasionally being successful at fantasy football count as worthwhile things), nor an ever-growing library of internet memes. On the contrary, my brain has an almost encyclopedic hold on information about a certain group of baby-sitters who live in the fictional Stoneybrook, Connecticut. They were created by the cunning, talented, tireless Ann M. Martin…and her army of ghostwriters, of course.

In case you’re not a twenty or thirty-something year old female nerd, I’m talking about The Baby-Sitters Club, the wildly successful book series I read for way longer than was appropriate. For some reason, when I was thinking bout how to describe how sick I was this week, exact phrases from Mystery #35: Abby and the Notorious Neighbor popped into my head. Since random phrases, characters, events, and ridiculousness from the BSC often finds its way into my thoughts, I didn’t think too much of it. This denial of weirdness on my part is probably helped by the fact that I currently read several frequently updated blogs from authors relatively near my age who still have the BSC obsession. I suppose it’s another area of knowledge I somewhat encourage my understanding of, since I find these blogs incredibly entertaining. They’re constantly reminding me of things I do indeed know – I just needed that tiny bit of jarring about a detail of Claudia’s outfits or a quirk of Mallory’s family to remind me how much more, indeed, I do really recall.

But this is a blog about life in Honduras, sorry, and I’ll try not to forget that. The past two and a half days I’ve been sick. Like Abby in the aforementioned tale, I was just sick enough to not really be able to go out and do stuff, but just not sick enough to not feel justified in that. On Wednesday, I started feeling the symptoms of the onset of a bad cold. I sneezed approximately twenty times in the library during the youth group meeting that wasn’t (as only one member showed up beyond me, Profe, and the librarian), each sneeze rattling my entire body and sending shoots of pain into my ears. Those kinds of sneezes, all in a row. Finally, when it was time to go home, I commiserated with my mom and sister, who were both in their own varying state of gripe, the word here used for a general sickness that could be translated as either cold or flu. It was simply that time of the year, where the slight change in seasons would begin to pass gripe from person to person. Fabulous. I went to bed early, after finishing the book I had started just when I arrived to Cisco.

On Thursday, I woke up feeling worse and decided to skip my run. I laid in bed for the morning, watching Arrested Development and blog-reading. I didn’t feel guilty about going anywhere, since both the school and library were merely preparing for a literary fair the next day and I had already spent a full day at the health center that week. In fact, after a few hours of a lazy morning I didn’t even feel sick anymore. I got dressed somewhat irrationally (in my sick state I was freezing cold, so I originally put on wool socks and sneakers in addition to my long pants and long sleeved shirt; luckily I talked myself down to flip flops with the heavier clothes) and made my way over to lunch at the house of the family whom I mentioned last entry. I managed OK for the walk there and the first hour or so, but after that I was spent. I regretted making it out of my house and then had to endure a long walk back, with my excited and fast moving friends, all the way across town, in my inappropriate attire. I arrived home upset and sweaty, glad that I cancelled my English/Spanish lesson for later with my uncle, and spent the time until dinner in a half-awake nap.

Of course, after that I felt a lot better and ate dinner feeling guilty, thinking I could have had my lesson. And so went the vicious cycle: I’d feel great sitting in my room resting, feel guilty and think I wasn’t that sick, and then go out and feel like death. I explained this to my family the next day, who sort of seemed to understand but also probably thought I was being a wimp. After all, even when they were sick, they had to run their household, with the pulperia, for 12+ hours a day (which involved a lot of work, though not leaving the house). But I soldiered on and attempted to go to the literary fair at the school on Friday morning. If everything would have gone as planned, I probably would have made it. Unfortunately, the show ran nearly two hours late, which I think is extreme even for Honduras. It was also raining, making everything impossible to see or hear, and therefore useless for me to be there, other than to simply show my presence. I was a mess trying to talk to people and physically uncomfortable the entire time. I had also heard back from the PCMO, who encouraged me to stay home, drink lots of fluids, take a cold medicine, and call the emergency number if I got worse this weekend. It was the encouragement I needed to peace out of the fair early and head back to my bed for more adventures of the Bluth family and reading up on the weekend’s football games. By dinnertime, I felt OK again, but this time I knew it was a ruse. I continued to take it easy, cancelled my dinner plans, was grateful for the canceling of a meeting I had intended to go to, and started my latest JP book that I had been saving for a time like this. I again went to bed without setting my alarm.

That brings me to today, Saturday, which I hope will be my final day of rest. I woke up, again, feeling a bit better and thinking I could easily do things today. But instead, I’ve spent the morning reading and watching TV, enjoying my somewhat-sickly day and not feeling guilty. I hope to be fully better by tomorrow and up for the trip down to Senti, where I urgently need to do several things (most importantly, withdraw money from my banking agent). Wish me luck that things might, just a little bit, possibly, for tomorrow only, go as planned!

I’ve already told you about Ses, who reminds me of Samantha in both personality and looks. Well, little by little, I’ve found other Honduran twins of people I know and love at home. Some really jump out at me (I’ll start with those), and others are a stretch, but either way it’s comforting. So besides Ses and Samantha, I have the two nurses in the health center. One reminds me completely of a friend from Edison named Nicole. They both talk in the same excited way that just makes you laugh along with them. I noticed it all morning I spent in the center and was finally so relieved when I realized who she reminded me of. The other nurse reminds me of my Aunt Donna. It’s mostly in looks, but it’s there. The sort of funny part is that the real Nicole is currently studying to be a nurse too and my Aunt Donna works in a veterinarian’s office. Strange coincidences.

Other ones that are more of a stretch: Profe, my main counterpart, at times reminds me of Coach Dennis. They’re both good at making speeches, inspiring people, and generally being the only guy around a sea of women. They can both be funny, too, though I have to get better at understanding the Honduran sense of humor. Pammy, my host sister, reminds me of my real sister Kaitlin, in the way that they’re both such sweet, nice people that I worry about them. I was trying to figure out why Pammy’s boyfriend made me a bit worried for her, since he really does seem like a great guy, and I realized it just has to do with Pammy, not him. She’s just so eager to please and seems to hold her happiness with the happiness of other people too much. It’s the same way I worry for Kaitlin – such a sweetheart, eager-to-please girl that I worry people will try to take advantage of her. At the same time, it makes them both great sisters that I’m lucky to be close with.

Finally, there are always kids around that remind me of kids back home, but the moments are fleeting and I hardly ever know anyone’s names. Today I dragged myself out for lunch at the house of a student at the school that always really clings to me and finds me to smile at and generally is just interested in me all the time. I went over with her and her sisters (all three between the ages of 8 and 13) and we all hung out and ate lunch together with her mom and their little cousin. I don’t want to sound too cliché or anything (I Studied Abroad in Africa, anyone?), but they really are such an awesome family that has almost nothing but is really happy and loving. They were so excited for me to come over and so open and friendly about everything. By the way the kids act, you can just tell they’re so loved; their mom is such a warm person that really oozes kindness, always eager to hug and happily remark about everything. At the same time, they live in a house with dirt floors and only two real rooms (one narrow room with a wood stove that’s used as a kitchen/dining room/foyer/living room and one bedroom, separated by a curtain, that they all share). But being there just made me feel really a part of a family and I wasn’t at all uncomfortable, except when I got about triple the amount of food as everyone else. I’ve felt like a part of the family in this way with several different families I know back home, and it’s a great, great feeling to have.

The last two days were seemingly regular workdays here. On Monday, I was at the school most of the day, observing a class in the morning and working up writing/translating my notes for the afternoon. I spent some time at the library, just because it was more peaceful to work there instead. I made plans to meet with Profe next week to actually write up a schedule/work plan for me, so that’s exciting and scary. I’m working on organizing my ideas for that now. I also spent some with the librarian, who is pretty awesome. She’s young and ready to work hard and interested in learning more about everything she’s doing. I think we’ll have a good working relationship and maybe even a real friendship.

On Tuesday, I spent the morning in the health center, which was interesting. It was the day the doctor came up from Senti to meet with all the pregnant women in my town and three surrounding towns who don’t have their own health center. It was pretty bizarre to spend lots of hours in a room with about 22 pregnant women, of all ages and sizes. I can’t say I really liked it; pregnant women kind of scare me. But it was certainly interesting and some of the ladies really warmed up to me. But I’m still not sure how working with that population will really go, considering my experience level (i.e. none).

But it was also good to get to know the two nurses (who are pretty awesome), the doctor, and their assistant. We all had lunch together and chatted quite a bit. I’m even going to eat dinner at the head nurse’s house on Friday to meet her son and husband, which I’m looking forward to. Plus, it got me out of the morning at the school, where I’ve been spending too much of my time. Both later afternoons I took easy, since I had later appointments lined up the rest of the week. I caught up on my emails, spent some time with my family, and got on a super early schedule.

This was partly because my sister, the one I really like, Pammy, has started to run with me in the mornings. We’re out by 5:45 so that we both have time to do everything afterwards in the morning. Now, I’ve never really liked exercising with anyone. I was always a very solitary gym-goer, preferring to work at my own pace and do my own thing and not have to worry about anyone else or anyone else’s schedule. Once I’ve been to a gym once or twice and know my way around, I really never want to see anyone else I know there, ever. I admit I even hide from people, avoiding eye contact and saying hello as long as possible, not unlike Weezy in Shop-Rite.

But actually, running with Pammy is not so bad at all, mostly because I don’t actually have to do much running with her. We walk together for a few minutes to start off, usually talking about the weather and how we feel that morning, and then run very slowly for 3-4 minutes until she’s tired. Then I keep running, at my own pace, on my own, for another 15-25 minutes. I double back and always pass her again to sort of check in, and that’s that. It’s kind of nice to have someone there to encourage you but not really to have to rely on. I think some mornings it might have actually helped me run more. I know she likes it, too, so now it’s kind of a win-win. So we’re in a fun, comfortable schedule.

But on her third-to-last day of service, my newest friend Maggie gave to me…

About 30 clothespins for puttingAbout 25 hangers for hangingAbout 15 different spices for cooking11 cute shirts for wearing10 pieces of silverware for eating9 books for reading8 fabric paints for painting7 pens for writing3 lotions for rubbing2 sports bras for running2 big knives for cutting2 bowls for eating1 set of curtains for hanging1 pair of pants for wearing1 Tupperware for putting1 cup for drinking1 basket for using1 bag for carrying1 blow-drier for drying…and maybe more stuff that I can’t remember right now, but it was pretty awesome. Add up all that, some fried tortillas with quesillo, a strawberry-banana smoothie, and a trip to a mini-supermarket…and that was my fun Saturday.

People not forgetting that I do still try my best to follow football and keeping me involvedMeeting the person who runs the “post office,” i.e. the lady who gets mail from the capital of Oco twice a week and calls you when you have somethingMy dad making his computer background a picture from our swearing-in ceremonyPeople who use the computer to text me for freeMaking my way back to Cones for the first time alone without a hitch, including getting a ride directly to my door from my host sister’s boyfriendAnxiously (but happily) awaiting my first batch of letters to come from my World-Wise School partner class, my cooperating teacher from when I was student teachingGetting free things from a leaving volunteer (more about this later)Being told from an old friend that part of my email to her made her day because it was so funnyEating warm, fresh tortillas made by my host mom…but I may be enjoying these too muchSleeping “late,” i.e. getting out of bed at just after seven todayThe strawberry-banana licuado (smoothie) I had in San Marcos yesterdayEmails from my sister about things that only we understand…even if they’re bad thingsThe random connections I’ve made here in HondurasSpanish getting just a teensy bit easier each day I’m hereUPDATE (actually, what first inspired this post): Knowing Leanne goes around singing "Peanut Butter Shelly Time" with Harry when she writes back to my emails every Sunday morning

One thing that DOES make me happy but hasn’t lately because it hasn’t happened in a long time…comments here on my blog!

Did you know that Honduras is roughly the size of Virginia, at just over 43,000 square miles? My department, Ocotepeque, is about equal in size to Rhode Island, at just over a thousand square miles.

The population of just under eight million of all of Honduras is also about the same as the population of Virginia, and a little smaller than all five boroughs of NYC. Ocotepeque has around 120,000 people, making it almost five times smaller than the least populated state of Wyoming. In fact, Oco has about the same number of people as Elizabeth, New Jersey (or double the amount of people as Bayonne or half the population of Jersey City).

Honduras’ population density is about 166 people per square mile, making it fall somewhere in between Georgia and Indiana (or about 1/7 of New Jersey, which of course is #1 in the US). The population density of my department is almost the same, falling in between North Carolina and Virginia, with around 190 people per square mile.

Virtually all Hondurans speak Spanish; to around 95% of the country, Spanish is their first and primary language. In the US, somewhere between 10-15% of the country speaks better Spanish than English. This means that the Spanish-speaking population of the US is more than five times as large as the entire population of Honduras. In NJ, over 15% of the population speaks Spanish. There are more Spanish-speakers in California than there are people in Honduras.

Final (not so) fun fact: The Honduran GDP per capita is $1,122. That of the US is $46,381. Both of those numbers were updated in April of this year.

Just some food for thought!

Today, I got up early to run and get ready early for school. I had planned on observing the other first grade class and working on my observations and suggestions for the teachers. As I walked to school, I thought it seemed a little quiet and I started to worry a bit. When I arrived to the school, it was locked and empty. After I waited a bit, sent some texts, and returned home, I found out it was “Day of the Teacher” and that no one had school. So I felt sort of gypped but also pretty free. I was wide-awake and now had the whole day to do what I wanted. I decided to not try the library or health center and instead go down to the bigger town of Senti, just down the mountain. I had been wanting to meet Matt, the health volunteer down there, for a few days since everyone talked about him and assumed we knew each other. He had sent me a nice text welcoming me a few days before and I had planned on meeting him Saturday. But then I figured I had the whole day open and it would be better to visit on a Friday, when hopefully my bank agent and the internet site would have a better shot of being open. So I went back home, relaxed a little, washed some clothes, and texted Matt. A little while later he replied saying he was reading and would be home for the morning and to stop by anytime.

Encouraged, I changed and set off. I decided to walk down to Senti, since it was supposed to only take about an hour and be all downhill. After one false start, I made my way down the mountain peacefully in about fifty minutes. It got warmer and warmer as I went down further, but it was still a pleasant walk. It was especially fun to look back every few minutes and see how far I’d gone – from down below, the antenna atop the big hill in Cisco looks incredibly far away. I arrived to the entrance of Senti and promptly stopped at the first pulperia, where I bought a cold soda and saldo for my Tigo. I chatted with the pulperia owner, who assumed I was PC before I said anything, and said he was Matt’s best friend. He confirmed that he did indeed live next door and was a great person. So far, so good.

So I headed one house over to Matt’s, not really knowing what to expect. Profe had told me he was really quiet and the rest of the people in Cisco didn’t really say much besides talk about his skin color, so I didn’t have too much to go on. I wasn’t sure if it would be awkward and I’d want to just say hello or if I’d spend some time and get him to show me Senti. It was the kind of situation that would probably make me pretty anxious in the states but here it was just natural to open yourself up right away to the nearest person who spoke English and understood what you were doing out here. Still, it had the potential to be weird and we could have not gotten along at all. With all these thoughts running through my head, I called “Hola” through his open front door just past eleven am.

Six and a half hours later, I was hopping on the bus in front of his house to finally go home. Needless to say, I had a great day with Matt in Senti. After hanging out and marveling over his awesome house, he took me on a slow, guided tour of Senti. Besides eating lunch and hanging out at the park, I also met the centro basico’s principal, the doctor and nurses in the health center, and the woman who runs the “post office” in the town. I attempted to go to our banking agent but the machine wasn’t working. I saw where the internet was but didn’t go in. We also walked by the kindergarten (where one room is more like a cage), Matt’s host family, and a few of the bigger pulperias. I said hi to everyone and finally got a good feel of the town of Senti. It’s good that even afternoons like that can be considered work in the PC. Getting to know the neighboring communities, making my presence known, and learning to safely travel are all within the realm of things I should be doing right now. Still, I must say it was more fun to spend the day doing that than observing in a classroom.

After walking around, talking and laughing and eating the day away, we went back to Matt’s and just hung out for a while. I have to say I feel like Matt’s going to be a good friend because we found ourselves in perfect, companionable (mostly) silence later on during our very first meeting. By late afternoon, I was laying in his hammock, reading his Moon’s guide to Honduras and sharing the funny parts. He sat in his chair at his massive desk, working on a Yo Merezco manual and drawing a cartoon me. It was a lovely end to a lovely day and, somehow, I can see myself passing days like that again. Can’t say I mind.

So it’s been a few days in Cisco and I have to say life is pretty wonderful. After spending Sunday settling in, unpacking, visiting nearby family, and hanging out with my own, I spent the next four days working in some form. Monday morning, after a good run/shower/breakfast, I headed over to the centro basico with one of my cousins, we’ll call her Ses. For some reason, I’ve found myself drawn to her over the last few days. I had a nagging feeling she reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure it out. Then I just figured it was because she was always so happy and smiley and seemed interested in me. She liked talking to me and was patient and generally happier than the normal thirteen-year-old girl in the states who has everything (looking at you, Kaitlin!). But then, just today, I figured it out! Ses totally reminds me of Coach Toni’s daughter, Samantha. She has the same nervous mannerisms, shy but inviting smile, and unique way of talking about almost everything positively. I think she kind of looks like her too, although this could just be my mind playing tricks. But yes, Sam, you have a Honduran alter ego (can’t really say twin) over here in Ocotepeque. It’s comforting. And I think no matter how old you get (I absolutely cannot believe you’re in college right now), you’ll always partially be a sixth grader to me.

Sorry about that tangent. Anyways, I walked to the centro with Ses and her other friends and we chatted about school. I found out the uniform is mandatory for the kids in seventh-ninth grades but optional for the rest. I learned about how there are four teachers for those three upper grades, so they specialize in subjects. They told me all about the things I’d see that week, since it was a holiday. It was a fun talk during the rough hike to the school. The school is probably only about a quarter mile away, but you go down a HUGE, steep hill (way worse on the way back, of course), over a small bridge over a river, up a small hill, cut through behind the library up a bigger hill, and then make your way on a road to the actual school, which is a bit back from the street. I’ll take a picture one day of my commute; though my legs ache after it, it’s certainly more invigorating than sitting in a car (though a part of me does occasionally miss driving). We arrived a few minutes before eight, the school’s official start time.

Of course, nothing really ever starts on time here, let alone on this holiday week. But eventually the kids assembled and went through some very patriotic motions before the day really began. Of course, Profe introduced me to everyone, listing my degrees and obliging me to give a quick welcome speech. From then on, I stuck with Profe as he showed me around the school, introduced me to the teachers, and we talked about ideas. It was fun and interesting. He also showed me the computer room and talked about future plans for the school. It was a good morning and we decided I’d start by just observing classroom by classroom for a full day to get the full idea of how things go. I like this idea very much.

Tuesday and Wednesday were cultural days for me, working at getting to know the community in general. Tuesday was the carerra de cinta, a weird competition/cultural/fund-raising/community thing. Basically, men in the community paid a certain amount for the privilege of riding their horses in front of a crowd, using a small pen-like dagger thing to try to snag a number off a hook that was suspended at arm’s length while the horse ran. I’ve reread that sentence and it’s really the best I can do. Each number attached to the hook corresponds with one of the princesses of the day, which are young girls dressed nicely who present the cowboy with a small prize. The whole thing was interesting for like ten minutes and then was boring and repetitive as the cowboys missed time after time. With eighteen cowboys, it took forever. Plus, I had been there a full hour before it started to meet people and observe at the time Profe told me. When I left at like one (I was hungry!), they were still missing several cowboys who just kept going. But it was good for me to meet more members of the community, bond with the teachers, AND I got to ride a horse for a little. Everyone insisted I try and I’m glad I did because it was fun.

That afternoon, I spent some time in the health center. I took some pictures and got to know the two nurses, who were very helpful and seemed interested in having me help at my own pace, with my own strengths. I’m really excited to start working with the parents of kids with special needs, who want to start their own therapy group (I’d like to help with this as well as form a general parent’s group). I’m less excited for some of the pregnancy-related initiatives they want me to help implement, but I think it will be good to learn about this sort of thing. They were also extremely understanding about me not having that much direct health-related experience, so that was really reassuring. They want me to work slowly as I learn and concentrate on what I’m comfortable with. I think the two of them will be great counterparts.

On Wednesday, it was Independence Day in Honduras! Everything was closed and the big part of the celebration in Cisco was the parade through town. Alongside a million kids (probably about 200?), lots of teachers and parents, and whomever else happened to follow along, I marched in the Cisco parade. It was cute and, while lot and exhausting, allowed me to learn a bit more of my way around town and say hello to lots of different people. It seems like almost everyone in town has at least heard of me and I’m starting to get shouts of “Alexandra!” everywhere I go…I’m still getting used to it, but I definitely like it. The parade had drummers, flag holders (including Ses), cheerleaders, dancers, cowboys/military men, and little tiny kindergartens dressed up basically like Halloween. Overall, it was really cute and I’m excited to eventually post those pictures.

After the parade, a lot of people gathered back at the school to have “civic acts,” which were very interesting. Besides the more usual stuff with the anthem, the flag, and a prayer, there were also several questionable dance routines done by students, a really bizarre play that I couldn’t follow at all, and some boring speeches. Of course, Profe again introduced me with all my degrees, but at least this time I didn’t have to say anything. I had strategically sat in the back. After all the official stuff was over, there was a charity dance thing that I sat in on for awhile. People paid to get into a classroom that had been converted into a dance hall. I only stayed to watch the first two couples start dancing, which I think were entirely made up of ninth grade students. It was extremely interesting to watch them dance. All four had great, natural rhythm, and moved in a way that made you want to watch them. It also made me feel just a tiny bit creepy. They seemed to have no problem dancing in front of their teachers and principals, though…they weren’t overly suggestive or anything, but I would have thought they would have felt more awkward. Even more surprising was that if anyone was awkward, it was the girls. They would giggle with their friends but still could move well. The boys were completely at ease and even a bit better at dancing than the girls. Very different from how I remember sixth and seventh grade dances, and from how I imagine they must still go today. I guess these kids were older, but I never went to any dances or proms after that, so I don’t really know how it compares.

Thursday was my first day officially observing. It was a very mixed experience. I started with the first grade, which has two classes, and randomly picked one. The teacher was very supportive and open to the idea, but only seven of her 23 students showed up that day. She said it was a combination of it being a holiday week, and that there was flu going around, and that there were usually 20-21 kids there on a given day. I guess we’ll see how the other days go. But it was fun to watch her interact with the seven kids who did come, including one with special needs that I was really interested in. She seems like a genuinely good, caring teacher and I was pleased to see my Spanish level does exceed that of the average first grader.

The first half of the morning went very well, but then the rest was sort of a mess. The kids went to computers after the first recess, which really just seemed time for them to randomly play things they didn’t understand. They stayed in computers for a while and then went to another recess early, and this recess lasted for the rest of the school day. The teachers were in a meeting that no one had told me about and that was simply it for the rest of the school day, until everyone convened for the last ten minutes of more patriotic activities. It wasn’t a total waste for me, as I did get to have some good long talks with some of the more social students, mostly fourth graders who liked to stand around me and grin and take forever to work up enough nerve to answer my questions. Hopefully they’ll come around with time. I already have a few favorites, and a few who clearly really adore me, and that’s very sweet. I’ve even received a few gifts, including a heart-shaped leaf, a poem about friendship copied by an older sibling, and a decorated empty envelope. It makes me feel loved! They’re all hanging in my room now.

Also on Thursday, I had my first English/Spanish lesson with my uncle, the Pastor. He has been learning English and is extremely interested in it. He’s entirely self-taught, primarily using books and an extremely bad computer program. I asked him if he would want to spend about two hours a week working on each other’s second language. I really just need someone to correct my errors, while he needs whatever he can get but the most help with pronunciation. It was an interesting session. It was fun but hard to work on his English. There are so many exceptions with every rule and so many different parts of pronunciation that are nearly impossible for a non-native speaker. But I tried the best I could and I think he enjoyed it. As for the Spanish part, he mostly just helped with my pronunciation and a few cultural things I didn’t understand before. He’s certainly not a Spanish teacher, as I learned when I tried to ask him whether I should use preterit or imperfect tense in a certain sentence. So the sessions will mostly focus on pronunciation and little, nitpicky things for me…which is completely fine.

Overall, it was a good start to my first real week as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I feel like I’ve gotten to know two of my three main counterparts (I will have to be better about visiting the library next week, as long as the library is better about being open). I’ve really bonded with some of the kids I’ve met, including some family members. I feel like the community in general knows who I am and has some idea of what I’m here to do. It was a nice, relaxing way to begin service while still feeling I was accomplishing things, so yay for that!

Hi everyone, just wanted to point to a few updates I made to the layout of the blog. I updated my user profile just a tiny bit. Also on the sidebar, you’ll now find a map of Honduras. If you click on it, it gets a little bigger and you can sort of see where I am, on the absolute westernmost edge of Honduras in the department of Ocotepeque. As I said before, the small city closest to me is San Marcos and the closest big city is Santa Rosa de Copan, which is about an hour away. I just visited San Marcos but have not seen Santa Rosa yet. It’s supposed to have great nightlife and be really fun to visit.

Further down, I took out my PC address in Teguc, since I will only be going there every few months for official things (so no worries if you sent something there, I will get it eventually). I do have a mailing address close to my town, but I don’t want to post it here, so please let me know if you have even the slightest intention of sending something. I will gladly send you my address, which is awesome in that it has no street names and no numbers whatsoever. Finally, scroll all the way down the sidebar and you will see a little note about pictures. I really am trying to figure out how to best post them, but it’s impossible with the internet service I usually have. I’m hoping to find a place in Santa Rosa with free wireless one day so I can go crazy and get a million up without worrying about my bandwidth. I promise when I do, I will let you guys know. I’ll be using Flickr (instead of Shutterfly, which has all my past pictures).

Also, I will be sending out an email in the next few days regarding how to send me a text to my Tigo phone from the internet for free, since my Digi cell only gets service in select parts of Cones (i.e. not my house). If you don’t get that email in the next week and want it, just let me know. But I think those are the only updates for now! Maybe one day I’ll change the layout or design of the blog, or add a poll or something, but for now I think it’s simple and works just fine. I hope you guys are all enjoying reading it.

At Dunkin’ Donuts after the embassy two weeks ago:

“Really, when I come home, I just want everyone to take me out for every single meal for a week straight. I hope they know that.” –Stacie (but hint, hint)

As I played excitedly with a borrowed baby for a long time in our technical room:

“Shelly, I’ve never seen this side of you!” –Rick

“Yeah well, I really like kids before they can talk. Or when they can’t talk.” Rick laughs. “No, I’m serious.”

“I know, Shelly, I know.” –Rick

I know I wrote about this a little before, but I wanted to include it here too…this was said at the embassy, not sure by whom:

“The bathrooms smell like the states! And you can flush toilet paper and warm water comes out of the warm water side at the sink!”

The entirety of a text I received Monday night that made me both really, really happy and really, really sad:

“I miss you postgames.”

Saturday, which was also September 11th though I didn’t really get a chance to reflect much on that fact, was our big travel day. I woke up a few minutes before four to finish getting my stuff completely ready and make sure my room was in perfect shape to leave. My host dad drove me down to the main street, with my 4 bags: the big rolling duffel, the smallish rolling suitcase, the zipper/rice bag I had bought in Talanga, and my backpack. I also had a big purse but we won’t count that. When the little bus (busito) finally pulled up at about five, a bunch of the Honduran men inside immediately jumped out and started loading my things on the carrier on top of the bus, in the back, under the seats. It was kind of funny. I said goodbye to my host dad and then we all drove about a hundred yards to the next stop, where the final three volunteers from our group were waiting. The Hondurans were looking nervously at all the luggage.

After lots of quick Spanish talking and surprisingly little arguing, decisions started happening fast. First, I thought we were all going to take busses and the busito was going with our counterparts to our sites. That was bad. Then we found out the counterparts had to go with us. Better. Then a PC person pulled up to talk things out with everyone. Helpful. We realized we could get a ride with him at least to Teguc. Better still. We all started picking through our bags and figuring out what we wanted to take with us for this daylong adventure. As the Hondurans talked and talked, we then realized some of us would be going in the busito. They loaded all the stuff from the roof rack inside and then assessed. Kristin and I were the chosen ones! Best news we’d heard all day. We got into the bus and somewhat sadly looked back at our poor friends. A few minutes before pulling away, Stephen and his counterpart were the last two honorees to get seats in the busito. I actually haven’t heard from any of the rest since that morning, so…I hope they all made it to Ocotepeque!

But the rest of us lucky ones spent ten-ish hours on a single busito, safe with all our belongings and counterparts. We took the very-long way (to get to Oco on decent roads requires first driving almost all the way to San Pedro Sula, then cutting back down), stopping at Burger King for breakfast (mmm, pancakes and ridiculously expensive tater tots), a gas station for a snack (Mountain Dew!!!!), and a comedor for lunch (I wasn’t really hungry so I just had some avocado and a tortilla). We all tried desperately to sleep, but it was pretty much useless. Between the tightly packed busito, the uncomfortable seats, the constant twists and turns and stops of Honduran highways, and the fact that we were surrounded by the people we would be working with the next two years…it’s safe to say we were awake the entire time. But it was still better than taking the regular busses!

We finally arrived in Ocotepeque, safe and sound, and I was the first one to be dropped off, right near the entrance of the bigger town that my site is an aldea of. We’ll call it Senti (you can’t possibly crack this code, trust me). My counterpart, Profe (short for Professor, which is what basically everyone calls him), kept his truck right there at a friend’s house and we were able to load it up with my things before hopping in to drive to the main part of the town. We stopped at Profe’s house, in a nearby aldea, to pick up his cute son. We then drove through Senti itself slowly, and Profe pointed out a few points of interest, including the internet place and the hardware store that doubled as my banking agent. We stopped so I could make my first transaction (yay money) and then headed straight up to my aldea, which we’ll call Cisco. The drive just to Cisco was stunning. I couldn’t stop taking pictures.

Then, Cisco itself. The views from way up there in the mountain are absolutely breathtaking (and I wouldn’t even see the best until two days later, when I went on a little hike with some new friends). It was incredible and I couldn’t stop exclaiming over the beauty I’d be living in everyday. We drove up and around and splashed through tiny rivers and drove up some more. The place is filled with huge hills, up and down, in every direction. As we went, Profe pointed out the health center, the road that led to the school, and the two kindergartens. We could see the huge Catholic church in the distance and I was in awe at the deep valley through the center of the town. We kept driving up and up and then reached my new house.

I got out of the truck with Profe and his son and went in to meet my new family. As I write this on Wednesday (I know, I’m backwards posting it on Sunday, sorry), I have just figured out tonight how everyone is related. So here is the overview of my family: my host mom, who is 65 and widowed, has eight children, but all of them are grown. Five of them are married and do not live in the house; four of those five live right in Cisco though. Between her five married children (four daughters and a son), she has nineteen grandchildren. iPuchica!, as they say here. I’ve met most of them at some time or another (almost all of them are school-aged and go to the centro basico) and they mostly seem fun and interested in me. Of the other three daughters (yes, if you’re keeping count, my host mom has seven daughters and one son…basically Boppy’s nightmare), two live in the house “full time.” They sleep here every night and work daily in the pulperia run by the family. These two are really nice and seem interested me; one especially likes to make conversation with me and is always patient with my Spanish. The baby daughter, who is 20, goes to university about an hour and a half away and comes home only rarely. She lives with another university student who grew up in their house but is technically cousins with all the other children, not sisters. She’s 24, studying engineering, and is very nice. She’s basically like a sister, just not technically. My host mom calls her her daughter.

But anyway, back to Saturday. I entered the house greeting my host mom and the one sister who is always home that I really like, we’ll call her Pammy. They both greeted me with hugs and hellos and were very friendly. They brought me right to my room, which is connected to the back of the house. You have to go outside a bit to get there (but it’s under the roof so you don’t get wet) and you can enter the yard through a locked gate if you don’t want to talk to anyone. Essentially, it’s perfect in that way. It has its own bathroom and was very nicely set up with my own bed, mini desk, and small table with a shelf. The “closet” consists of one hanging bar, 3 hangers, and a shelf. The whole room is perfect, just very small. I think that’ll be the main reason I’ll be looking for my own place in two months. Otherwise, I really like everything and living with my family.

So after setting my stuff down, I wanted nothing more than to just lay down – even a half hour would’ve helped so much – but everyone started getting things and Profe told me he wanted to take me on a driving tour to show me the rest of the town, which included the library and the school. I obliged and we were eventually off, with Pammy and Profe’s son in the bed of the truck. We drove around some more, but it was getting dark by this point so I didn’t get to see quite as many astounding views. When we arrived at the library, there was a bunch of people waiting outside, which didn’t alarm me at first. We went in, greeting everyone, and I marveled at the library, which is really a great space (pictures coming soon). Slowly though, I realized people were all getting ready and assembling and then I realized it was a welcome party for me.

The little party was super sweet and so thoughtful and decorated with balloons and posters and finished off with food and drink. It was so nice. But after ten hours in a bus and five hours of sleep and meeting an overwhelming amount of people in a short time…I was not exactly ready for it all. I also looked a mess, in my rumpled and smelly travel clothes. But I did my best, smiling so much my face hurt and even gave a little impromptu speech when necessary. It would not be the first time I was embarrassed in front of a group of people as Profe talked about how prepared I was and listed my degrees. After the speeches and introductions, it was small talk time for a bit while they got the food and drinks ready and soon we were all eating tamales and drinking coffee (very last thing I wanted) and talking about the library. By this point, I was so tired and felt so disgusting that I couldn’t even be bothered to care much. I would’ve yawned on purpose a few times to show how tired I was, but my body was already doing that naturally and Profe was just as tired. We left soon after that, as it started to rain.

When I got back, Profe left, telling me I had tomorrow to relax and do my own thing and that I should come to the school with the students on Monday. Perfect. When I got inside, I knew I couldn’t go right to bed no matter how much I wanted to. My host mom insisted I eat something and when I started eating, I found I was ravenous. I ate my chop suey (what they call basically a lo mein plate) with vigor, and confirmed that the mother is, indeed, a great cook. They encouraged me to go to bed after that and I gratefully did.

Yesterday was our counterpart day/swearing-in ceremony/goodbye party, 15 hours of excitement and new experiences. All of the aspirantes arrived to our training center for the last morning, at the normal 7:30 start time, all dressed up and looking pretty. After lots of pictures and nervous laughter and final preparations, we started meeting our counterparts one by one. My counterpart totally threw me off by being fairly young (though his first name is Elder), easy to understand, and really, really cool. He was very welcoming and our first chat went very well.

After a welcome from our training director and someone else from the Peace Corps, the whole group split into work areas. Sammy led us in a series of a few activities, typical stuff like talking about expectations and planning and culture differences and the like. It was helpful and interesting to hear from different perspectives. Then, my counterpart spoke to the group of aspirantes, which I didn’t know was happening. After that, everyone was jealous of me for having such a great guy as a counterpart. It was very cool. We were also all given a snack midway through, and the Peace Corps even sprung for catered food throughout the day. Between all the food and service, the travel money, and the hotel/transportation for our counterparts, it must have been quite the expensive day overall.

But after our group sessions, we all received our own travel money. It was interesting that I received the most out of everyone. I knew my group would, since we were the furthest away, but somehow I got the most. Weird, because I was not the longest trip. But then we all ate lunch together and it was a TOTAL ResLife flashback. Somewhat bland chicken, salad with ranch dressing, dinner roll, cheesy mashed potatoes, sodas to choose from, and a piece of cake. Sound familiar? It’s pretty much what we’d been given at any catered ResLife event going back to all time. Strange and reassuring. The highlight, for me, was the crouton. I only had one and it was delicious.

After lunch, we all got onto our busses and made our way down to Teguc. It was an exciting bus ride, typically Honduran with its awesome 80s music blasting. Once we arrived, we waited outside the embassy for what seemed like forever as all the Honduran people checked in. There was lots of gratuitous picture-taking, with interesting poses and many different combinations of people. That part was fun, but the waiting got old after a bit. Finally, when it was our turn to go in, we walked right through to the back garden. No showing of IDs, checking to make sure we didn’t have phones, or anything other than going through a metal detector. The garden was set up nicely, with a podium, a central table, and the Honduran and American flags on the stage. There was a section for us aspirantes, a section for our counterparts and other people who came to watch (mostly current volunteers), and a section for staff. There was also a small coffee place but I decided to save my money.

We waited around there for a while, chatting and being nervously excited. After a few people ventured to the bathroom inside, most of us went because we were told, “It smells like the US in the bathrooms!” It’s hard to explain but it kind of did. We were also able to flush the toilet paper down the toilet (everywhere else in Honduras it’s thrown in the garbage) and enjoy hot and cold water right at the sink. Needless to say, the building was also air conditioned (still a rare Honduran occurrence) and had a very clean and American-looking cafeteria that we couldn’t go in. Overall, it was a very cool part of the experience, to be on American soil (technically) for the first time in months.

Finally the ceremony got started with speeches from our training director, a Peace Corps representative, and the American ambassador. They were all fairly straightforward, but I liked it a lot when our training director said more or less, “They came to the country as 57 trainees. Now today, we swear in only the best of them – our 57 soon-to-be volunteers.” That was really sweet. We also sung both national anthems. We raised our right hands, repeated after the speaker, and were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers. That was pretty sweet; to go from PCTs to PCVs and really feel like we made it. The final speeches were from two of our representatives. Jessica, the final speaker, did an amazing job, even reading a poem she wrote about Honduras. That was pretty inspiring and beautiful. Afterwards, it was mingling and more picture-taking time while having refreshments. The refreshments even included a super-mini-cheeseburger, a pizza on a cracker, and a mini cherry pie. Very American.

The last few minutes of our time at the embassy were spent in our Ocotepeque group, where the seven of us volunteers and our counterparts worked out the details for the next day’s trip. We drew maps, explained things the best we could, and pretty much hoped for the best. The group of counterparts would be leaving their hotel in Valle at four am to drive down and start picking us up for the 10ish hour trip. It was exciting to think about but I think most of us were just ready to go the after-party.

We finally got on our way, having an even more exciting and fun bus ride back to Valle. After dropping off a few people who couldn’t go or didn’t want to go to the party, we made it to the restaurant/bar that was open just for us and immediately began ordering food and drinks, as we were leaving the restaurant by nine to get back to our host families for the last night at a somewhat decent hour. It was a fun party, mostly everyone just talking excitedly about their sites and plans and lamenting that we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. There was at least one old volunteer there too and I talked to him and other volunteers I hadn’t talked to too much before for a long time. By the end of the night (a whopping like 8:30pm), just about everyone was dancing and starting to get nostalgic. I don’t think anyone wanted to leave when the bus came.

The bus ride home took a long while but was again fun, filled with American music and really festive people. I didn’t get home until after ten but my host mom and sister were still up so I got to talk to them for a little while before heading to my room. I did some last minute packing, internetting, and finally went to sleep for just a few fitful hours of sleep. I was dead tired but I think the idea of starting an entirely new life the next day kept me from sleeping soundly. Overall though, it was quite the perfect day that made me really exciting for everything to come.

We did it! Check out this article (with picture!) in the Honduras Tribune...New volunteers to work in Honduran communities! You can copy and paste it into freetranslation.com to get the gist of it, but it's just a very basic overview of our work. Click on the picture to make it bigger (or go here) and you can find me smiling in the front row, wearing my high school graduation dress. We're a pretty good-looking group and look almost entirely female here, but all the boys are hiding in the back.

Special shoutouts to the awesome faces made by Ruth and Aimee. Also, if you feel like being amused, check out the statement (in all caps, of couse) by "Rocky" below in the comments on the article. You can freetranslation it, but it basically says we only came here to evade military service, learn Spanish, and spy on people in the country. It finishes with the lovely metaphor of us being wolves in sheep's clothing. Awesome. The other comments are nice.

But anyways, congratulations to every single member of H17, the entire group of 57 of us that flew here on June 23 and were still all there to swear in together on September 10th. We did it!

Things are happening so fast! Today is the last real day of training; we close everything out today, watch some final presentations, have our language interview meetings, and clean up the center. Tomorrow is a crazy day of meeting our counterparts first thing, spending the morning with them in guided activities (I think), eating lunch together, and then heading over to Tegucigalpa! We all go to the embassy together and have our swearing-in ceremony at three. After that, most of the group is being bussed right down to a restaurant in Valle that’s agreed to host a little goodbye party/dinner for the evening. Then it’s home to pack and we leave Saturday morning!

I’m still working out the details with my counterparts and everyone, since it seems like all seven of us going to Ocotepeque might be using a small, private bus to get back with our counterparts, though mine might be leaving the day before. It’s all still up in the air but all I’m hoping for is to not have to take a bus back and to be able to go to the party with everyone. Keep your fingers crossed for all of us!

I’m running through a lot of emotions these past few days, but overall I just can’t believe tomorrow I’ll be sworn in as an official Peace Corps volunteer. I want to reflect on it more later, but there were definitely moments throughout the last eleven weeks when I did not think I would be where I am – and when I didn’t want to end up here. But as of now, I’m super psyched and proud of all of us. I’m nervous and scared and excited and anxious and worried…but above all, I think excited. Like I said, I’ll reflect more on it later but I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for reading thus far and keeping me on track throughout training with your love, comments, emails, packages, letters, Facebook chats/messages/wall posts, Gchats, thoughts, prayers, texts, and general encouragement. I’ve appreciated every single instance of support, big or small, and from this weekend on, PC is going to mean a different thing to all of us. I can’t wait to start figuring out what that is for me.

Yesterday, randomly during the transition from one activity to the next, most of the YD people gathered together and started doing a loud, embarrassing dinamica, trying to get everyone to join in. Most people ignored them and I walked from one part of the training center to the other past them, averting my eyes as so not to get encouraged in. During this, my friend Stephen caught my eye and asked with an evil grin if I wasn’t going to join in with them. I smiled an evil smile right back and asked him if he really thought I was that kind of girl, couldn’t he tell by now? He laughed in a knowing way and we went our separate ways. For some reason, this made me really happy.

Yesterday was another typical PC-Hondu weekend day: full of relaxation, frustration, enjoyment of the weather, reflection, reading, writing, bucket bathing, running, questionable food, confused messages, happy phone calls with people in the states, and then ending on a final, evil frustration. It’s really hard to say if it was a good or bad day, as I’m trying to think about now. I guess I’ll just explain parts.

My family was great the day before and this morning, suggesting that I don’t have to go to church with them if I was tired. I happily obliged and stayed quietly in my bed until they left just before 9am. I had been gloriously able to wake up on my own terms, which of course meant an oh-so-late 6:30 wakeup. At least it was not to an alarm. But after some slow internetting and reading, I spent most of the morning with more slow internetting and reading. It was great. I also managed to run for a good thirty minutes in the late morning (a feat that would have been impossible in Talanga because of the weather), taking my time but really conquering the crazy Zarabanda hills. I was pretty proud of myself and my first warm bucket bath in seven weeks was the perfect reward.

After all this, I waited for my family to come home since we were supposed to go to my grandparent’s for lunch. Apparently though, this didn’t work out for reasons I couldn’t quite understand – from what my family told me, it seemed to have to do with my grandparents not being ready/having enough food and my dad forgetting his cell phone. When I talked to Brian (the aspirante staying with my grandparents), he understood that the family tried to blame their absence on me not being ready, which is an outright lie. I was reading on the porch with my bag packed when they pulled up and told me we weren’t going. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. I had to wait awhile to eat lunch after all this, but it was worth it: pasta stuffed with cheese and meat, covered in marinara sauce and various vegetables and spices. Perfect. I was thrilled to have it the next day for lunch too.

So I got to spend the rest of the day with more reading and writing and internet frustration. I talked to a few people at home, took a very light nap, and organized my room just a bit more. Finally, as fantasy football draft time neared closer and closer, I tried to get the application to work with both of my computers (using my internet stick) and the family’s (using theirs). It simply would not load all the way, though I could do other things fine. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was really upsetting. Just remembering how much fun the draft was last year and wanting to pick my own team, combined with the fact that I had expected to be able to get on for just this one thing, made me kind of depressed the rest of the night. My cousin Mikey was a real friend as usual, drafting for me and staying with me on the phone for half of it. I just wish he didn’t have to do the second draft for me in three years. I really am aware how silly I sound, I promise I am, but I can’t help the things that seem important to me. I just wanted that one thing and was really disappointed I didn’t get it.

Anyway, I was all set to have a depressing Monday back at training, but Honduras was insistent on cheering me up. I had a fantastic breakfast (French toast and toast with REAL peanut butter and jelly, plus coffee), a fantastic lunch (leftovers from the day before plus pineapple juice), and just generally a good day of training. It was great to see and talk to and catch up with everyone from the other groups, plus see the YDers in almost a new light, if that makes sense. It was good to hear from the other trainers too and we had a somewhat inspiring speaker right before lunch. I was also happy to have my language interview on Wednesday (not Tuesday) and was again reassured by our language person that we could not go down a level no matter how bad our interview went. Whew, so that’s out of the way.

In the afternoon, we separated first by region and did some activities talking about our work and skill sets. It was really interesting to hear about the work of the others in my area, especially since I’m the only YD in our group. Actually, there’s only one other YD person that’s staying longer than another month in my entire department. There’re only a few MDers too; the department is basically a combination of PAM, Water/Sanitation (WatSan), and Health. It will be really cool to learn from and work with all of them. After that activity, we did another one in different groups to learn even more about the work in the other areas. It was a good way to end the day early.

Afterwards, a bunch of us headed over to a nearby bar/pupuseria (place that sells pupusas, basically a stuffed, fried tortilla with vegetables on top) and had two buckets of beers. It was SO much fun and the perfect way to unwind and enjoy each other’s company and really catch up (i.e. gossip). A lot had happened in the other groups – I have to say YD is a bit boring in that sense, probably because we only have three guys. Not too much going on there to get excited about. But it was a great time; I left in an even better mood and feeling my lovely tipsiness after two beers (and spending about $1.75). For the rest of the night, after a disappointing dinner and a quick phone call with Grandma, I had another warm bucket bath (this time even washing my hair!) and spent the rest of the night working on the computer: reading, writing, transferring files to get my netbook ready for our next movie swap. I suppose I was being a bit antisocial with my family, but at this point it hardly matters. Maybe I’ll feel more inclined tomorrow, after a few hours of Spanish class and feeling the pressure to prepare for my interview the next day. We’ll see!

PS ~ A very special Happy Birthday to my very first PC friend Stacie, who celebrated the big 2-6 today!

Yesterday was a great, exhausting, long day. Like I said, I was up just after five to get ready, say goodbye, and trudge all my stuff to the park, where I was the second aspirante to arrive. By six-thirty we were all there though, and didn’t have to wait too long for the bus. The loading and fitting everything somehow went way better than on our ride to FBT, which is strange because we all had more stuff. I guess, live and learn. But before we knew it, we were off to Cantarranas to pick up MD!

It was great to see them all. While we had seen people occasionally since the start of FBT, this time we all knew our sites and had a million different things to talk about. I got to talk to my two future neighbors and we all got to brag about all the cool facts about our sites and planned work and future families. It was a great ride, typically Honduran though, of course. At one point, we stopped in a bus terminal. We didn’t really know what was going on, since it was supposed to be a straight shot to Teguc at this point. But then all of a sudden the bus driver opened up the floorboard part on the front of the bus where some bus parts are (I think the motor is under the hood, but I don’t really know how busses are built) and was getting help from other random bus drivers at the stop. We figured he was just adding oil or checking something, but someone brought a blowtorch and other tools and they were actually welding something. The bus still made some terrible-sounding noises throughout the entire day, but was strong enough to last us. We later stopped to add air to the tires before finally heading back to Zarabanda. We found out the PAM bus had stopped at least once so the driver could take care of some personal errands.

We also had some unexpected amazingness when we stopped at a gas station en route to Teguc so people could go to the bathroom (I went, but was not one of the ones who wanted to stop). At this random bus stop near Valle de Angeles, we found peanut butter and Mountain Dew. Not really exaggerating, it felt like Christmas to me. I spent all the money I had on me to buy one container of peanut butter, four cans of Mountain Dew, and some snacks for the rest of the day. It was money well spent, even though I’ve been spending like crazy lately. I’m still within my budget though and haven’t dipped into any US money. But yeah, totally a wonderful, happy surprise. Surprises -- good and bad -- are not something Honduras lacks.

Anyway, otherwise the bus ride was uneventful and we arrived at the immigration office pretty early. It was open just for us and I was surprised by the efficiency of the whole procedure. They had several employees there, one of our training officials was there to help us, and it was all pretty organized. It took forever, but only because there was 57 of us needing to do all the same things. But the waiting wasn’t too bad; it was fun to catch up with everyone, snack, and read. After a few hours, our busses headed to a part of Teguc that included a Popeye’s Chicken, Pizza Hut, McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Domino’s, Café Americano (basically a Starbucks), Dunkin Donuts, Burger King, and La Colonia (big grocery store) all within walking distance. We were all kind of in heaven.

The group split pretty evenly between Pizza Hut and Wendy’s. I tried the Hut (ahhh, memories of two very special dates there) but it was really expensive and just seemed like a bad idea. It would involve seating a table of like 15 people, splitting pies and checks, and lots of waiting. As much as I wanted pizza, I was not in the mood for that. Instead, one other person and I headed to Burger King, got an amazing deal, and took our meal over to sit with everyone else at Wendy’s. Good decisions all around, because afterward I got to have a Frosty too. I had to concentrate on not inhaling my food so I could really taste it and enjoy it. It was fabulous. It was also funny to see the different signs in another language and also have different aspects thrown in. A Frosty is still a Frosty, but there is also a “Desayuno Tipico” (typical breakfast) which includes tortillas, beans, platanos, and queso, all Wendy’s style. It actually made me start accidentally speaking in English for a second when I went to order the Frosty.

After eating and sitting around talking for awhile, we headed to the supermarket (I didn’t buy anything but some people went crazy) and then hung out with a few people as they got coffee. Instead of coffee, I eventually went back to Wendy’s to use their free internet and had an apple pie as my last American sample of food, probably for months. Everything I ate between Wendy’s and Burger King tasted exactly like it does at home. It was very reassuring. After the internetting and everyone had a chance to do what they needed, we finally headed back to the busses to make our way back to Zarabanda. I had help from Brad -- Hi again, if his mom is still reading! -- to drag all my bags a bit up the road to wait for my host dad. I was very lucky, because I would have not physically been able to make the trip up the huge hill to my house with even half of those bags, I don’t think. But my dad saved the day, coming in his new, roomy car, and being his same, affectionate, happy self. It immediately eased my anxiety about returning, along with being able to speak in easy Spanish with him.

The rest of the night I opened up my bags (can’t really call it unpacking), caught up a bit with the family (one of the cats had three kittens!), and mostly relaxed. I had a small dinner and got some reading and writing and computing done before trying to go to bed early.

So, my site! I’m dying to share some of what I know about my future home for two years. On Friday, I only got clues from my interview with my supervisors but after conspiring with the other aspirantes, my host family, and current volunteers, I am about 98% sure I know where I’m going from our list of nineteen sites. There are only about six people who are completely unsure of where they’re going; the rest of us know or have it narrowed down to one or two sites. But I’ll go forward for now without naming anything since it’s still a bit uncertain.

I also want to say that most of the stuff they told me took me by surprise. I don’t know why, but I was picturing myself in a big city, kind of running around and trying to save money and stay safe. When they were telling me things during the interview, I was at first surprised but not upset. I hope my face didn’t show that, at least. But by the time we were through talking, I was thrilled and smiley and just really happy and excited to share with everyone everything I knew. OK I don’t really know where to start here…

But I guess a good place to start is why I’m in the site. There is a big population of children with disabilities in my site. My supervisors suggested I could make it my own project to try and record some data about all this (locations, ages, types of disability, etc. of the people with disabilities) or try to work with the health center/nearby health volunteer or something to try and hypothesize why this might be. But really, I was put there because the town has requested someone with experience working with people with disabilities. They want someone to work closely with the teachers to try and help them figure out how to teach the students with disabilities and work with the parents as well. That is all super exciting to me.

So that’s why I’m put in the site. As far as description of the town, it’s an aldea (dictionary translation: village or hamlet, which is kind of funny), which basically means it’s a small offshoot of a bigger town (which has a real center but can also be very small or rural). The aldeas can be really far from the town or pretty close, but I’m imagining mine is on the far side since it was described several times as “very rural.” I would never have chosen a rural site for myself, but I’m actually really excited to live there with the choice made for me. Another amazing part of my site is that it’s up in the mountains. This means it’s beautiful and, most importantly, cool. I’m so lucky that the site that specifically requested someone with experience with people with special needs happens to be up in the cool mountains. It’s also a coffee-growing community.

Since it’s up in the mountains, I think I’m somewhat isolated. But the nearest PC person is a current health volunteer, only twenty minutes away. If I’m where I think, there are a lot of other volunteers on my side of the country in general, though not so many in my actual department (equivalent to state). I forgot to ask how close the nearest person from my training group will be. There has been a YD volunteer there before; I’m unsure about when exactly she left. I am also within two hours of two big cities. I am about two hours from a very big city and an hour and a half from a big city. So in Honduran terms, those are relatively close by. I still have to look at a map to figure out which cities those are. I need to buy a map, actually.

The family that I’ll start off living with sounds great. They’re the same family the previous volunteer lived with, so I know they’re pretty good and the volunteer spoke extremely highly of the mother’s cooking, saying to tell me to eat all my meals there and savor it while I’m living there (she moved out sometime after the two months required). So hopefully I can learn a lot from her, my host mom. She’s a single mom and she has four girls, but they’re all older and unmarried. My supervisor said they’re all around “my age” with the youngest being around 17, which is kind of cool. I think it will almost make me feel like living with roommates or something rather than little or big sisters (the oldest one is late twenties). They have lots of pets apparently, including a turtle. Good to know, I guess.

Speaking of pets, the volunteer there before me had her own horse. Like, she bought and cared for an actual horse of her own. Kind of crazy and not something I think I’m capable of. But they told me this when I asked about a bike. PC provides bikes for those who request them and show that they’d use them in their sites. My supervisors told me the previous volunteer (I can’t wait until I can just use her name) said she didn’t want a bike because it was too hilly and mountainous to ride, but that kind of intrigued me. I’ll see how it is when I get there. They said I could definitely have a dog though, which is awesome.

Finally, my official work with my official counterparts. I have three of them, and the main one is the principal of the only school in the aldea, a centro basico, which is basically a school for kids in first through ninth grades. There is a teacher for each grade and the school is a fantastic one, according to everyone. The teachers all work during the strikes and even during vacations. Only some of them live in the aldea (some travel to the school) but they’re all really involved and passionate about teaching and learning and the students. Since they’ve had a volunteer before, they’re all ready to have more of the same programs they’ve started (Joven a Joven, Yo Merezco) and they’re ready to start more (school for parents, TEAM). This all sounds really great and like I’ll get to work with a variety of ages, which is cool -- plus all the student with disabilities, of course.

My second counterpart is a library (biblioteca). There is a type of library here in Honduras called a Rieken library, which was started by a former PC volunteer and can be found in lots of places all across the country. The Rieken foundation (based out of the US) provided funds for librarians to be paid, books to be bought, and internet/computers to be used in each library. Unfortunately, the company that funded all this fell with the economy about a year and a half ago and had to stop virtually all of its funding. So it’s really sad; all the Rieken libraries across Honduras are all still standing but many are completely nonfunctional. However, my town still has it functioning as a library, with one full time librarian but no more internet. So she is another counterpart and they want my focus with her and the library to be on improving reading and writing (like having tutoring or something in the library), early stimulation programs (basically starting Mommy and Me type classes with parents and young children), arts and crafts with the littlest kids, and helping run the youth group (Zona X) that was already started by the previous volunteer. That all sounds really cool to me too, and I definitely might be calling on Darby and Janis for some help with some of those things.

Finally, my third counterpart is a health center (centro de salud). I’m really excited about working with them and general and figuring out ways to work with them. But the programs they have set up that they specifically mentioned wanting help with so far are definitely things that will challenge me. They want me to help out with the pregnancy club (clubs for pregnant women to share information about pregnancy, childbirth, staying healthy, all that stuff) and with giving charlas/information in whatever way to mothers for how to help young kids stay healthy and have life skills and everything. They also want me to form some sort of teen pregnancy prevention program. Again, all of these are things I have virtually no experience doing but it will certainly be interesting to try it all out.

So those are my three counterparts. My supervisors also mentioned the possibility of working with/starting sports teams, helping out at the local kinder, working with the patronato (like the group of involved citizens that meets and makes suggestions to the government), and helping out with women who want to start exporting honey. However, the previous volunteer said to only give me those three counterparts because I will have more than enough work with just them. Here’s the only really negative part of the entire site: I’m replacing a super volunteer. Like, I was told that in those words by my supervisors. Super volunteers are just what they sound like; they are incredibly amazing and successful and involved volunteers that are universally loved and respected and accomplished lots of things in their sites. I wouldn’t have minded replacing or not replacing a volunteer, but I did not want to replace a super volunteer (or a bad volunteer). It gives me a lot to live up to. One other person in our group was told they were replacing a super volunteer too, so hopefully together we can at least not disappoint our communities too much!

Anyway, that’s what I know as of now. It was mentioned to me that sometimes the information given to us at this point is not always completely correct. I don’t want to get into that now, but I’m still pretty sure I know where I’m going. Only ONE MORE DAY until we know everything!