Elizabeth Clare

Goodbyes

2010-02-04T07:55:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone. It has been a loooong time since I have written, and I have no excuse. Except that my journey in the Peace Corps is over. I got back late December, and have not had the motivation to blog, since my life has gone from exciting and wonderful to very, very boring. However, I would like to continue blogging, at least for a little while, about my experience and the people I met in Honduras, and what impact they made on me.

My first post-peace corps entry is just about saying goodbye. One time I likened it to death. Because the further away it is, the harder it seems to imagine saying goodbye. But as you get closer and closer to the time, you begin to accept it, little by little. I called my mom one day because I was frustrated by these small bugs that were getting into my room, on my bed and my clothes. I didn't know where they had come from-I had never had a problem like this before. While I was describing it to my mom, she said to me "God has a way of helping people let go of a place when they have to say goodbye. He helps you move on, and become annoyed or frustrated with the things in that place, like those bugs." I couldn't help but think that she was probably right. In some strange way I saw those bugs as a gift from God, helping me along the way as I said goodbye to my home, my friends and loved ones that I had lived with for 2 years.

When the time finally came, I was completely ready and excited to move on to the next segment of my life. I even began to get annoyed by my friends in my town, who all began asking me to leave them all my possessions with them, and more and more excited to see my family.

Each person I met during my 2 years touched me very deeply and changed me in ways I will never be able to fathom completely. I know I will never forget them and my experience, and I will always keep them in my thoughts and prayers.

Si se puede

2009-10-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

¨Si se puede, si se puede, si se puede.....¨ That´s what the Hondurans chant to cheer on their soccer team every time they play a game. ¨Yes we can, yes we can!¨ The Honduran soccer fans are extremely loyal. As they should be, since this year the Honduran soccer team got into the final round of elimination to go to the World Cup, and had a good chance to go this year, something they have not been able to do since 1982.

I started watching the Honduran team more closely this year, and became a true Honduras soccer fan. The team plays really well, and has some excellent players and it is fun to watch them, especially when they play against the best teams of the league, Mexico and the US. These last two games for them were the most important, and would determine whether Honduras or Costa Rica would go to the World Cup this year. If you are not familiar with soccer, the teams that get into the world cup get in based on a point system. The team gets 3 points if they win a game, 1 point if they tie, and 0 if they lose. The top 3 or 4 teams go to the world cup, depending on the size of the league. In this case, the top 3 teams go. Before last Saturday, the US had 16, Mexico 15, Honduras 13 and Costa Rica 12. That Saturday they played against the US in Honduras. People came into Honduras from all over, including the US to cheer on Honduras. They were really excited for Honduras to win. Unfortunately, although Honduras played an excellent game, they lost in their own stadium to the US. An extremely devastating loss for them, but although they lost and Costa Rica won the game they played and were ahead of them in standing by 2 points, Honduran fans still had hope that on Wednesday they would beat El Salvador and the US would beat or tie against Costa Rica, so Honduras could beat Costa Rica and go to the World Cup.

My sister and I, who had come to visit me this week, went to see the Honduras-El Salvador game at a friend´s house in my town. We were a little weary at the beginning, crossing our fingers that Honduras would win, and the US would beat Costa Rica or tie with them (both games were to be played at the very same time). If Honduras won and Costa Rica tied, both countries would have the same amount of points, 16, but Honduras would beat Costa Rica because they had scored more goals.

So the game started, and everyone in the room had knots in their stomachs. When watching the Honduran players walk onto the field we could see the tension in their eyes, and some were almost shaking from nervousness. This was a big game, and they had to win. The game started off shakey. We could tell the Hondurans were nervous, and El Salvador was dominating the field. They had more shots on goal, and had more control over the ball. At half time, the score was 0-0, but what was worse was the US was losing to Costa Rica 2-0. We had all pretty much lost hope by then. At one point I turned to Sarah and said ¨let´s go home.¨ She wanted to too, but we were both embarassed to leave, so we stayed. So the second half started, and we could tell that the El Salvadorians were getting more tired and that Honduras was getting better. About 15 minutes into the second half, Honduras scored. It was bittersweet, because although it was exciting, we knew that Costa Rica was still beating the US 2-0. The game continued, and about 5 minutes later the commentator announced that the US had scored a goal. Yes! There was a chance still! The US could still do it! Although we were anxious about the Honduras game, I think most people were more anxious about the US game. When the 45 minutes of the second half were over, they went into overtime for time lost from injury and penalties during the game. These minutes were excruciatingly painful for the watchers. We just wanted it to end. But at the same time we didn´t, because we wanted the US to score against Costa Rica. Finally, it was over. Honduras had won, but apparantly the US hadn´t. It was over for the Hondurans. The players were obviously upset, and one even got to his knees and started crying on the field. Then all of a sudden, there was commotion in the stands. The cameras were pointed at the fans, and many of them were cheering. Us who were watching the game exclaimed ¨why are they so excited? There´s no reason to be cheering.¨ But they kept cheering louder and louder, and then the commentators started talking really excitedly and fast, although they obviously didn´t really know what was going on either. One of the men from my town watching the game turned on the radio, to see what was going on. Had the US tied? Had they really scored a goal in the last few minutes of the game? Then he turned off the radio, and all I could hear were the commentators shouting ¨They did it! They made it! Since 1982, Honduras is going to the World Cup!!!!!!!!!!!!!!¨ I looked at Sarah and almost started crying from excitement. Everyone in the room was just astounded, they couldn´t speak. But quickly, the men started hopping up and down in excitement. (Sarah´s note: he grasped the radio plastered to one ear..looked me in the eye frozen in disbelief for a moment and then out of this big man came a high pitched woooo wooooohooohooo wooooooo) One ran outside of the house and shot gunshots in the air. Everyone started dancing around the room in excitement. HOORAY!!!! HOORAY FOR HONDURAS, AND HOORAY FOR THE US!!!!!! It was the most incredible moment for all Hondurans. After such a huge disappointment of thinking they had lost everything they fought for this year, they gained it by one goal from the gringos! The guy who had gotten on his knees and started crying from sadness began crying tears of joy and celebrating with his fellow players.

The next day, on the morning news, they were showing people celebrating in cities all over the country. Half the country didn´t sleep that night because they were celebrating in the streets, in their cars, in their homes, and in bars and restaurants all over the country. For the first time in a long time, I think every Honduran all over the world forgot completely about the political situation and just celebrated together.

Loneliness

2009-09-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

I’ve picked up the nasty habit of smoking since I got down here. I’m not really sure why, but while sitting in my hammock, in my small house in the middle of the woods, with no other house or people in sight, a cigarette seems strangely appealing to me.

Once, a fellow volunteer and sworn enemy of the cigarette asked me ¨why do you smoke?¨ in the condescending you-should-give-up-that-nasty-habit-it´ll-kill-you tone. ¨I dunno,¨ I replied. Then, without really thinking, added ¨Sometimes I get lonely.¨ He then started to make fun of me for my comment. ¨Do you need friends, Liz?¨ he asked. ¨Do I need to come visit your tool shed to keep you company?¨ I laughed along with him, although secretly resenting him for being so condescending without really understanding the situation I live in. This particular volunteer has a nicer house than I have in the US, which is in a nice neighborhood in a fairly large town. He also has a TV, cable, a laptop, and will soon have internet in his house as well. Not to mention the fact that he is constantly having visitors in his home, and has easy access to other towns if he ever desires to visit another volunteer. In other words, he has so many distractions surrounding him that he probably doesn’t even get a chance to even think about loneliness.

I, however, have none of those distractions. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me, and I am happy to find other ways to occupy my time. However, there are those rare days when I’ve just finished a good book, or when I get home at 6 and think to myself ¨now what do I do till bedtime?¨ that I get hit by it like a strong, unexpected gust of wind: loneliness. Raw and untainted, and I am helpless to escape it. Sometimes all I can do is go to bed to rid myself of the horrible empty feeling. Other times I smoke a cigarette, hoping the soothing feeling it gives me will help it go away. Yet other times, I just sit there in silence and allow myself to be consumed by it, to feel every emotion, negative or positive, that comes with it. Sadness, serenity, peace, contemplation, at times fear. I read once that one of the greatest fears of the human soul is loneliness, and the root of a great amount of depression and crime. That’s why so many of us spend our whole lives trying to escape it through friends, television and internet.

Living a life where these distractions don’t exist, I haven´t had a choice but to confront loneliness face to face. However, the experience has been unexpectedly rewarding. It is in these moments of loneliness that I feel God’s presence more than ever. I am also able to contemplate my life and experiences during these moments with an astounding clarity that I’ve never been able to do before. It has given me an inner strength and awareness of life that I never would have been able to possess otherwise. Despite these few moments of clarity, it is always extremely difficult for me to face this loneliness, and I know I don’t always deal with it well. However, I find comfort in knowing that I am able to deal with it somehow, and experience the rewards that come from it. I would like to see if my friend could live like I do without taking up smoking.

Site Rat

2009-08-20T09:34:00.000-07:00

Here in Honduras, the other volunteers like to call me a ¨site rat.¨ This basically means that I stay in my site all the time, and that I don’t get out much. To the volunteers who live in my same area, I am a mystery. Basically unknown to everyone. When I finally show up to an event, they wonder what has happened to me all this time, and if I have turned into ¨one of them.¨ I’ve noticed that I tend to be quieter around my fellow Americans, and slightly more awkward. I remember the first volunteer gathering I went to, 2 months after I had gotten to site, was sort of a shock for me. Trying to adjust from speaking Spanish all the time to pure English was difficult. At one point, I was trying to describe to a fellow volunteer the classes I teach, and was painfully spitting the words out, as if I was a foreigner to my own language.. ¨Sorry,¨ I exclaimed to him sheepishly, ¨I can’t stop thinking in Spanish.¨ ¨It’s okay,¨ he answered, eyeing me with a curious look, ¨just eat, don’t worry about talking.¨

Now, don’t get me wrong. I see plenty of volunteers, probably about on average 2 times a month, which is actually astoundingly little compared to those who live in big cities and see other volunteers every day. Sometimes I thirst to see fellow patriots, and to speak in English, and to complain about our jobs. Sometimes I just need a break from the small town life and gossipy old ladies. But most of the time I’m just fine. Being here, completely immersing myself in the culture that surrounds me is exactly what I wanted. I eat the same food they eat. I ride the bus with them. I watch telenovelas with the women. I listen to the music here and dance at the parties. I even cook on a fire when the electricity goes out (anyone need a campfire lit?? I’m your girl!) Some would say I have basically become Honduran.

I was getting down on myself the other day for not hanging out with other volunteers more. The main reason I don’t is not because I don’t want to, but actually because I teach classes every Saturday, which counts as the students´ high school education. So I feel awful if I miss one day. And, of course, Saturday is the day people always choose to get together. But then I began thinking about the difference between relationships in Honduras and relationships in the US. When people become friends in the US, especially when they’re younger, it’s usually during a period of their lives when they will shortly move on. Therefore, even with people they barely knew in college, high school, and jobs, they will always be able to keep in contact if not by phone, by facebook or email. And with all the traveling that we gringos like to do, who knows who we cross paths with in the future. Here in the tiny town that I live in, as well as in all of Honduras, that is much, much different. Perhaps the friends we make in our towns are just a pastime for us, but to them, it’s a friendship for a lifetime. People who’s idea of a relationship isn’t just a person to go to a movie with on Saturday nights. Friends are real, true, and forever. And when volunteers come into their lives and quickly leave, without a trace, not even a call or an address, it hurts.

I love the experience I’m having, and almost pity those who aren’t experiencing the Peace Corps the way I am. Although I know that most of them actually pity me. Or look up to me. Or think me a mystery, I’m not quite sure. But I love it here. That’s why it’ll be really hard to come back…..if I ever do (just kidding, mom :)

Chicken soup for the soul

2009-07-24T07:45:00.000-07:00

Whenever I used to think of chicken soup, two things would always come to mind. One was the Campbell’s soup commercials where the snowman would come inside from the cold, and the bowl of chicken soup would melt him away into a little boy. The other is that damn book that was a lovely idea at first, but then it got so extreme I think they even came out with one called ¨Chicken soup for the dog’s soul.¨ Dogs don’t even have souls. Shows how much they know.

Last Sunday my whole idea of chicken soup changed entirely. (warning, if you are a vegetarian, you may not want to read further). I got up at the break of dawn, excited for the day that lied ahead. I ate a quick breakfast, bathed, and changed, then headed off towards a friend’s house. Today we were going to run an errand together. A special errand.

I got to the house, early of course, and waited anxiously as she finished making tortillas and breakfast for her family. When we finally left, she told me that to get to the person’s house we were going to, it would be quicker and better to go through the farm instead of on the main road. I agreed, but later regretted the decision, as I stomped through the farm, climbing on top of big rocks and getting scraped by thorns along the way. We finally arrived at the house after stopping at a few others to visit and drink coffee along the way. While we were there drinking yet another cup of coffee, I watched as the woman searched through the herd of young ripe chickens, and picked up the chosen one out of the dozens of others. She then tied his legs together so he wouldn’t get away, and handed it to my friend, who stuffed it into her bag. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy, wondering if he knew his fate that lied ahead. I looked into his eyes, trying to find some hint of fear or sadness. For a moment I thought I saw a tear, but quickly realized it was just the sun glimmering off the white of his eye.

When we arrived back at her house about 2 hours later, we were ready to make the soup. She started the fire and put a large pot of water over it to boil. ¨I want to see how you kill the chicken.¨ I said, wondering if I would regret it later. At that moment, I saw her son walking out towards the back of the house with the chicken in his hands. It was time. She took a kitchen knife in her hand and headed out behind him. He handed her the chicken, and she positioned his feet under one of hers, and grabbed the head with her hands and began to saw it off. It was at this moment when I wondered if I shouldn’t just become vegetarian for the rest of my life. I pondered it while she struggled to get the head off, then as I watched the son take the knife and hack it with one big whack. And I kept pondering it while trying to keep a straight face as I watched the poor chicken die before my eyes. The same chicken she had carried on her back up the hill through the farm. The same chicken she had been petting while chatting with the neighbors and drinking, that’s right, another cup of coffee.

The next step was easier. Plucking it. She stuck him in a pot of boiling water, and to my surprise, the feather just started shedding. She told me in order to learn I had to help her. So hesitantly, I reached my hand in there and started plucking. The more we plucked, the more it looked like something I would buy in a supermarket, and the more assured I became that I could eat meat once again. The only thing was I had to keep dodging his head bobbing from side to side that they hadn’t yet cut off completely. After the plucking came the gutting. As she cut him open at the end, I was surprised to find organs spilling out onto the table. I almost just expected him to be empty, like the turkeys we stuff for Thanksgiving. She picked through the organs, telling me which ones we could leave in there, and which ones we couldn’t. After we finished gutting him, she cut him up into pieces, and he was ready to cook. About an hour later, she spooned out a bowl of hot, fresh chicken soup for me. As I spooned each bite into my mouth, I quickly forgot about the fact that I knew this chicken, and that I had seen him running around happily with his brothers and sisters only this morning. It was delicious. The flavor of fresh chicken is so much richer, fuller than the chicken you buy at the supermarkets. And the meat has an entirely different texture. I would like to see Campbell’s try to imitate this flavor! .

When I was your age.....

2009-07-15T09:34:00.000-07:00

The other day, I was talking on the phone with my older sister. As we started the conversation, she was getting into the car, headed home from work. To my surprise, no more than 5 minutes later she was getting out of the car in front of her apartment building.
¨Are you home already?¨ I exclaimed in astonishment. ¨That was like, less than 5 minutes.¨
¨Yeah, so?¨
¨How long of a walk is it?¨
¨Oh, I don’t know, about 20 or 25 minutes.¨
¨What?? 25 minutes? And you would rather take your car than walk?¨ I began to rattle off a million and four reasons why it’s a much better idea to walk than it is to drive your car, including one example from my experience here in Honduras. ¨Did you know,¨ I said in a huff, ¨that I walk over an hour just to get to the next town to do work, usually up a really big hill, and not to mention an hour walk back under the scorching tropical…¨ I stopped mid-sentence when I realized how ridiculous I was being and simultaneously heard a roar of laughter coming from the other line. I joined in with my sister’s laughter, although somewhat astounded by my reaction. I sounded just like an 85 year-old man exclaiming to his wide-eyed grandkids ¨when I was your age, I walked 5 miles to school in a foot of snow….uphill both ways.¨

I have since then had time to reflect on my reaction, knowing that it had been one from the gut. Strong, but coming from real emotions. For the past two years, I have lived among people who bathe in streams not for fun, but out of necessity, people who ride horses not for show or sport, but because it gets them from one place to another, people who cook over a fire every day not to roast marshmallows, but because that’s their stove, people who don’t even understand the concept of ¨camping,¨ because they live in those conditions basically every day.

These people, however, I have never taken pity on. On the contrary. I in fact admire their strength and work ethic, and wish there were more people in the US like that. Here, I see a life stripped bare of all the conveniences of technology we’re used to today. A life that is pure and simple, just the way God made it. Not necessarily better, but extremely different from the life we lead in the US. A life where dog toe nail clippers exist as well as people who complain about the barista putting whole milk instead of skim milk in their coffee (it’s crazy they even notice the difference). These little reminders just give me a sort of reverse culture shock every time I hear them. Like my sister who drives to work every day when she could easily walk 20 minutes. Perfectly normal, who wouldn’t? But after living a life where a car is a luxury, my automatic reaction is not one of disdain, but of mere shock. And when I finally get back to the states, I will leave that life behind; but never the memories, with which I unfortunately will have no one to share them. I also think I’m starting to understand grandpa’s point…..

A Honduran crisis

2009-07-08T08:52:00.000-07:00

About a week before the alleged ¨elections¨that ex-president Manuel Zelaya was supposed to be making, peace corps sent everyone a text message telling us that we had to stay in our sites the entire weekend just in case something extreme happened. Elections? I asked a fellow volunteer. What elections? I had no idea what everyone was talking about. What fourth urn?

Honestly, although there was apparently a bunch of hype about the cuarta urna (fourth urn), I still don´t know what exactly Mel´s plans were. All I know is that it was illegal, and he basically was doing it so he could stay in power more than 4 years (much like the same thing Chavez did nearly 10 years ago, as well as various other Latin American presidents following his lead). Well, Sunday morning I get a text saying, to my shock and surprise, that there has been a ¨golpe de estado.¨ What´s that? I asked a friend of mine. He said that it´s when the government in power is overthrown, and a new government takes over. A coup??? Can it really be? I didn´t believe Honduras was capable of such a thing. But they were. Although it´s still unknown exactly if it was a coup or not. Basically, what we were told was that the supreme court, congress, and the military acted together to kick Mel out, and put in the president of Congress, Roberto Michelleti (they couldn´t put in the vice president, the next in line, because he is running for presidency during the next term, and if he were president, even for such a short period of time, it´s against the Honduran constitution for him to run).

So since then, it has been interesting here in Honduras. It´s the first time ever that I´ve really talked politics with the people in my town. Normally they don´t seem to care much, but when I talk to them, they all seem to be strong in their beliefs that what Mel did was wrong, and that they want democracy, not a dictatorship. There have been many protestors to reinstate Mel Zalaya, but it seems to me like the majority are for democracy and the new president. Even last week, there were demonstrations all over the country of hundreds of thousands of people peacefully demonstrating that they want peace and democracy, not a dictatorship. I remember hearing that over the radio, and wanting to cry it was so touching to me. Although there are so many countries who are against Honduras and what they did, Hondurans have held strong to their beliefs and won´t back down. And all, on both sides, have demonstrated their beliefs peacefully. I hope and pray for the best for this county, because God knows that they deserve it.

Earthquake

2009-05-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

This is just to inform everyone that I am okay. Yes, there was an earthquake in Honduras last night at 3 in the morning, however, this earthquake was very far away from where I am. Actually, I was traveling with my friend Laura and we were on the islands just this week, but we left yesterday morning, just in time to not feel a thing. By the time the earthquake happened, we were safe and sound on the opposite side of Honduras. THanks everyone for your concerns! Mom, I´m surprised you haven´t called yet!

Unwanted attention 2

2009-05-19T08:21:00.000-07:00

I was just reading and old blog I had put up about unwanted attention, and was reminded of a funny incident that happened recently in my town.

For the most part, the men in my town are respectful of me, and don´t make stupid comments when I pass by. However, there always has to be those one or two guys who are just downright rude. One of them lives in the town over from me, and every time I pass him, he just has to say something rediculous to me. Well, the other day, I just had enough of it. I was passing by him and a bunch of his friends, when he called to me ¨mi amor, I looooov yu.¨ That was it, I just couldn´t take it anymore. So I turned around (I was already a good way past all of them), and yelled ¨who do you think you are, talking to me like that? I am a person, just like you, and you need to respect me! Anyways, I live here, and I don´t want to hear you yell at me every single time I pass you, you got it?¨ And I walked away, just in time to see his friends doubled over from laughter, and his face turn slightly pink.

Mi madrecita

2009-05-19T08:03:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day, I know has come and gone, but I also have not gotten the chance to get to town since then to write about Mother’s Day here in Honduras.

I was talking to my mom the second time I called for Mother’s Day about how the priest in our parish at home was talking in mass that day about how the woman who invented the special day in America spent the rest of her life since then fighting how it was celebrated. Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with how Mother’s Day is celebrated in the States, but I just think it’s so much more wonderful here in Honduras (and, I believe, in all of Latin America). That’s why I called my mom 3 times that day (she doesn’t know about the third, because I couldn’t get a hold of her the third time because the lines were so clogged up), because I was constantly reminded the entire day of how special mothers are and how much they deserve such a wonderful tribute to them.

When people go away from the house to study or work, they normally come home only 3 times a year. Once for Christmas, once for Holy Week, and once for Mother´s Day. I remember in the afternoon on Saturday, noticing that the bus from our town was passing through town a 3rd time to drop people off, and thinking ¨how strange, the buses only pass by twice.¨ Then I remembered, Mother´s Day! There are only 2 buses that leave from my town to go to the city each day. Well I know that on that Saturday, each bus made at least 2 trips because there were too many people coming into town to see their mom the next day.

On Sunday, I went to mass and saw that it was especially full that day and there was a buzz of excitement all inside and outside the church. During the homily, the priest talked especially about mothers and their role in the family. After the mass, a few people got up and said poems about mothers (there are a ton of them in spanish).

After mass, I went home to call my mom, because I missed her. After talking to her a short bit, I went to the school, where the students were putting on performances for Mother´s Day. They danced, sang songs about mothers and recited poems about mothers. It was beautiful. After that, I went to a friend´s house to celebrate the big day with them, and they were making a feast at home, with a special cake to go along with it as well!

One thing I love about this culture, and the importance of Mother´s Day definately reflects it, is how special family is. Family and relationships are their number one priority. It is very community-centered, which I think is why I feel so at home here, even though my family isn´t here with me!

Birthday in Honduras

2009-05-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

So, last year for my birthday, I must say, was 100% disappointing, however, it was also all my fault. My family, and especially my mom, all know the type of person I am. I never mention my birthday to the people I love, hoping secretly that they will miraculously remember, and throw me a huge surprise party. Seriously, that´s how I am and have always been.

Well, in Honduras, it´s 5X worse, because if you aren´t reminding people every day 3 times a day, they are sure to forget. And that´s exactly what happened last year. I told a few close friends about a week or two before my birthday that it was coming up, and as the day approached, hoped to God they would remember. Well, they didn´t, much to my surprise and great disappointment. I just remember the disappointment of that day, when I was relating the whole story to my family up in the woods behind my house.

This year, I vowed to make it much, much different. So I had a party! In my town, when someone has a birthday party, it´s custom to have a celebration first (mass without the priest), then give out food and cake, and break a piñata. So that´s exactly what I did. The day before, the profesora, the woman I lived with before moving to my own house, drove me to Choluteca and helped me pick out all of the things I would need to make the food. When I got back, I went over to a friends house, and brought her back with me to spend the night, and help me make the cake (yes, i stupidly decided to make 2 cakes for 50 people myself!).

The cake making was quite an experience, I must say. First of all, I had gone to the city the day before especially to buy butter for the cake, something that is almost impossible to find. Well, upon arriving to my house, I set the bag with the butter in it on the chair outside, and went inside to set up for making the cake. To my surprise and horror, when I went to get the butter, it was nowhere in sight! The stray dogs that like to come around my house scavengering for food because their owners don´t give them anything to eat had stolen it! I was devastated. How the hell was I going to make my cake now? Luckily, my friend consoled me and she and my boyfriend both helped me make a cake with shortening instead. Not half as good, but it would have to do.

The next day, I went early in the morning to the Profesora´s house to cut vegetables, cook the chicken, and get everything ready for the food. I came back later that day to finish everything, and carried a huge pot that she had lent me all the way up the hill to my house. I was ready for a party. People started showing up. The kids first, then the parents came lagging behind. I remember walking back from the cooperative, carrying chairs, and seeing a multitude of children running around outside my house, and beaming with glee. I loved seeing my house like this!

During the celebration, many people expressed their sentiments for me, and how much I meant to them. And afterwards they sand various songs to me. The breaking of the huge piñata, almost the size of me, was the last blow out, and tons of fun. I had filled it to the brim with so much candy, they could hardly lift the darn thing! Every time a kid hit the piñata and candy shot out, it was a race to see who could get it first. And when it finally broke for good, it was a disaster. Candy, children, pieces of piñata everywhere. Just what a good birthday party should be.

I´m alive

2009-05-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

So, I´m writing this blog today to let you all know that I´m am alive and okay. The thing is, the computer I would always write my blogs on in my town was not working for some time, so it made it much harder for me to write my blogs, because when i go into the city, i almost never have time to sit and think up something to put on my blog. But I am here to announce that the computer is working again! I will be putting up blogs from my trip to Mexico to visit my sister Sarah, and my birthday party very soon!

Peace to all, I hope you´re doing well

Mary´s visit

2009-01-30T11:19:00.000-08:00

Soooo, I know my little sister left quite a long time ago. She came back with me from the states, and spent an entire week in Honduras, most of which was spent in my site. We kept meaning to leave and do other things outside of my site, but never got the chance, because we both loved just hanging out in my site! Some of my favorite memories were:

1. Climbing the mountain up to the top, and sitting and taking pictures, and just taking in the beauty all around us.
2. Watching Mary freak out while taking a bucket bath basically outdoors, while continually swating at the bees that were buzzing around her, and screaming. I´m proud of her for getting through it!
3. playing soccer with the neighbors, two of which were guys around mine and Mary´s age. Every time she looked like she got hurt, they would run up to her, and ask if she was okay, and if she needed a massage!
4. Dancing with Mary in the discoteca!
5. Going and visiting the gold mines in the town over from mine, and taking a picture with a group of the miners, who were quite happy to do so!
6. Riding on my horse to the next town down the mountain taking turns, and then riding him back up the mountain with both of us on him on the same time! One of us eventually had to get off, because we thought we were going to kill the poor thing!
7. Going to a great typical restaurant our first night in Tegucigulpa, and having a Mariachi band sing a song about Maria to us
8. Cooking some grand meals in my house!
9. Playing with the son of one of my neighbors, my favorite little boy in the world! We both want to adopt him and take him home for good.
10. Watching Mary´s spanish get better and better only over a week span, and her getting less and less timid.

My last day in site

2008-12-18T11:52:00.000-08:00

Just kidding. I'm still here, and will be here for 9 months more. But I left my town today to go back to visit the states, and I definitely felt like I was actually leaving forever at times. My day yesterday was full of good-byes and good lucks that it made me start to feel like I wasn't coming back. Well, the least it did was give me a little glimpse of what it will be like for me when I finally leave.

So, I woke up early in the morning to wash my sheets, and the rest of the dirty clothes that I had left in the hamper. Right as I finished up, I rushed off to a Christmas lunch that the president of the women's cooperative I work with put together for all the women of the cooperative. The main event was to celebrate Christmas, and just have a good time together.

We all arrived together in the car of one of the women in my town. When we got there, the woman who had invited us all had set up chairs in a circle on her porch and already had lunch cooking in the kitchen. She ran up to us with a warm smile on her face, and greeted each one of us with a huge hug. We each sat down in the chairs, some uneasy being in an unfamiliar place, and others content and perfectly at ease. As we began talking about the women's children and telling jokes, I could see the more timid women opening up, and soon everyone was laughing and opening up.

The lunch made was chicken boiled with vegetables, rice, fried shrimp and salad. It was the best Honduran meal I have ever had! After lunch, we sat around and exchanged secret santa gifts (yes, the exact same custom that we have here in the states, they have in my small town in Honduras). The person who gave me the gift was the host. Before handing it to me, she announced to everyone that her secret santa was a very special person who meant so much to the women's group, and that she was going to miss her very much when she left. I almost teared up when she announced my name, and went up to give her a huge hug. The person I gave my gift to was none other than the profesora whom I lived with for 5 months before moving into my own house. She is a person very dear to me, and probably one of my favorite people in all of Agua Fria. I was happy to have picked her name, and be able to give her my small gift.

After secret santa, they brought out the cake. Now this cake had been the idea of, and bought by the profesora, who wanted to buy me a goodbye cake (yes, she knew I was only leaving for 2 weeks) to thank me for all the work that I had done with the high school and with the women's group. I was so honored, and realized how much I really do mean to these people, and that they aren't just saying formalities when they tell me they'll miss me. They really mean it.

At one point during the day, one of the women announced how happy she was that the group had formed, how much it helped her, and how she hoped that it would never fall apart. Last night my family asked me what was the moment in which I felt like I was making a difference. I suppose it was at that moment. During my time here, I'm sure I'll work a lot, and help many people. But the real difference I'm making I know will be very, very subtle. And revealed to me through gestures and small comments like that one.

After I got back from the party, I went from house to house saying goodbye to people, hoping not to forget anyone. The last house I came to is the house of a woman who makes bread every other day, and sells it on the others in the city in order to make a living. I went to her house to ask to buy some bread from her. I spent 3 hours there, just chatting with her and her daughter and grandchildren about airplanes, people who go illegally to the states, and Christmas customs in the states. As I said my final goodbyes, I looked into the face of the woman, and saw that she was tearing up. At first I thought that something was wrong, and that something had happened. But I soon saw that those tears were for me. Her daughter laughed at her and said, "mother, she's not leaving for good. She'll be back in 2 weeks!" "I know, " she sniffed, "I was just thinking of how hard it's going to be when she leaves for good."

Noviembre sin agua

2008-11-25T07:59:00.000-08:00

I´m very sorry, friends and family. I have just gotten worse and worse about updating my blog. The sad thing is that I am more free from work now more than ever, and I still don´t seem to have time to update my blog!

So, I decided to relate a recent story from my town, just so you could get a small glimpse of the way people work in my town, as well as many towns in Honduras. This can be a blessing as well as a frustration.

Each of the small towns in Honduras has their separate water system, which is not managed by the state at all, only by the people of the town. In my town, the people in charge of the water system meet on a regular basis to talk about upkeep of the system, the recieving of money, as well as various other things. At one of their recent meetings, they were all frusterated by people in the town who had not paid for their water for some time, as well as some who never showed up to any of the meetings. As a result, they decided to, as a punishement, turn off the water for an entire month.

Now, when one hears this story up to this point, they may assume that those who were punished fairly (those who had not paid water or come to the meetings) must have gone to the leaders of the water system, and tell them no worries, that they will pay as soon as possible, as long as they turn the water back one. One would also assume that those who were punished unjustly (those who had always paid on time and shown up to the meetings, but were getting punished anyway along with the rest of the town), would become infuriated and fight for the unjustice being done to them.

However, nothing of the sort happened. When I found out about it, I just heard from a woman in the town who had always paid her water on time, and she just sighed and exclaimed ¨well, that´s going to make for a difficult month.¨ I heard little complaining from then on. I just saw the women going to the streams every day to wash their clothes, children dragging wheelbarrows full of water jugs to their houses, and people conserving their water more than ever without even thinking anything of it. I was shocked at this attitude, and somewhat upset. I couldn´t really believe that they would go through so much trouble to get their water, when really all they had to do was talk to the leaders of the water project. Something that probably would have taken a couple hours of discussion, but virtually no effort compared to what they were putting themselves through.

This situation, however, helped me to see more clearly why it can be so hard to get people in the town to work on projects. For example, if no one in the town is using latrines, and someone comes in and tells them all about them, and how wonderful they are, and how it would make peeing so much quicker and easier, they might be interested, but would they go through all that work for something more convenient, or would they just continue doing what they´ve been used to all their lives? Peeing in the grass. It may be less convenient, but is it really worth it to go through all that trouble to build a nice shiny new latrine?

Many volunteers often criticize the people here for that very reason. The fact that they are so set in their ways, they don´t really try to make the effort to better their lives. But who are we to judge? How many people do you know who would go through the work of finding funds, looking for materials, and building their own fancy new electric toilet if they were told it is better for the environment? Not many.

Slow working

2008-10-10T18:16:00.000-07:00

I was just reading my blogs, and realized that I haven't updated everyone about how work is going lately. The truth is, work is not getting much different, and projects are going very, very slowly. That is how it works most of the time in the peace corps, especially in rural Honduras.

Remember the Community Supported Agriculture project I was trying to work on with the coffee cooperative in my site? Well, I kept having to push and push them, and they kept putting their answer off, so I finally discarded working with them, and have started to work on the project with my women's group. None of the women actually grow any of the fruit that they would be selling to Tegucigulpa, which makes it much more complicated for them, and a lot more work, but they are ten times more willing and motivated than the coffee farmers ever were. We have had a few meetings to discuss the details and logistics, and I finally gave the woman who is buying the fruits a go in order to start the process. It's a sure go! We won't sell our first bunch of fruits for another couple of weeks, but I am excited to see how it goes. No matter what, it will be a very good learning experience for the women, in terms of how to organize products, and work with a fixed customer (which is what they would be doing if they are able to sell to a supermarket). I also recently talked with an NGO that supports women's groups all over Honduras in terms of training, motivation, and financial support. They plan on coming down within the next month in order to talk to the women, to see if they can help us at all.

My english classes are winding down. We actually have final exams next Saturday! I think many of the kids have learned a lot, and although I'm extremely relieved to finally have my Saturdays open again, I'm a little disappointed at the thought of ending classes, and saying goodbye to so many good, sweet students.

The coffee cooperative is busy as usual. I have recently been helping them with the fair trade certification process. A big part of that is keeping accounts of the money that comes in an out of the cooperative monthly. So I plan on starting to help them with that in the future, although I know it will be a HUGE endeavour, seeing as they have a large history of money records that they've never really organized before. I also am starting to help the look more actively for market in the states, by making panthlets in english and possibly a coffee video.

These are all the current projects I'm working on. I also have some that have been milling around in my brain, but have decided not to share them with anyone until they are a sure go. I will let you know when they are more developed!

1 year in

2008-09-29T09:32:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of us being in site. At this time last year, I was traveling to a place I barely knew, nervous, shy, and wondering what the hell I was thinking.

Now, everytime I go away from my site, and come back, I feel like I´m coming home. The people, the environment, the life, is all so beautiful here. I absolutely love it, and it´ll be really tough to leave. But at the same time, I´m beginning to look towards the future. Excited, and ready for what lies ahead.

I miss you all, and I´ll see you in a year!

The funeral

2008-08-26T10:16:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was woken up by two little girls in my town calling my name softly outside my door. This is not abnormal, and I was extremely tired, so I rolled over, wanting to go back to sleep and just ignore them. But something inside me told me I should go out there. So I did. When I opened the door, I saw two little girls, cousins, looking up at me. The smaller one began speaking to me rapidly, and I had just woken up, so what she was telling me didn’t really register at first. When I then figured out what she was saying, I realized that her baby brother, who was born yesterday at 1 in the afternoon, 2 months early, had died. They wanted me to go and take a picture, so they could have a reminder of her baby brother who had barely lived 4 hours, which she had never been able to meet.

I ran into my room to change, and in a couple minutes was ready with my camera, and began walking towards the house with them. On the way there, I kept asking questions to the little girls to keep my mind off the horrific event and to keep from crying. When I got to the house, I saw the grandmother, whose cheeks were stained with tears, and the mother, and gave them both hugs. The mother actually looked surprisingly well, as if she hadn’t been crying at all.

Knowing how easily I cry, I hoped and prayed as I walked toward the room where they had baby that I wouldn’t burst out into tears. When I saw the baby, he looked like a normal, healthy baby who was just sleeping. For a split second, I thought he might actually wake up any second. I couldn’t help it, and even with all the kids gathered around me waiting to see my reaction, tears filled up in my eyes as I tried with all my might to hold them back. I quietly took 3 or 4 pictures of the baby, hoping I wouldn’t have them in my camera too long, knowing that it would kill me to look at them every time I ran through my pictures.

After taking the pictures, I sat down and quietly observed as the other mourners came to see the baby. I was surprised and slightly confused by the reactions of everyone. Almost none of the women who went to see the baby seemed to be bothered at all by the sight of him. Most of them, actually, as they approached the baby smiled and whispered ¨oh, he would have been so cute!¨, as if he were still alive. As I watched everyone come and go, I sat in awe and confusion by the reactions of all the people. So many would say to the mother, ¨well, that’s the way the Lord wanted it.¨ And just accepted it as one of the many pains a person has to endure in life. And almost no one went up to console the mother, rather would ask her questions such as ¨so, when was he born?¨ then, ¨When did he die?¨ and right into ¨I think it might rain today.¨

I think one thing that hurts the most is how something that is viewed as such a horrible pain to go through in the States, is so common here that most people don’t even see it as a very big deal. However, I have also noticed that people seemed to generally take deaths much more easily here than in the States. It may be because the majority believes that if the person was good, he or she is in heaven right now and there’s no reason to cry over that. They also very readily accept such a painful event as God’s will. I still don’t know if this is naivety or wisdom, but I know that I’m jealous of such faith and strength to be able to get through something like that with out wanting to give up or turn your back on everything.

A car story

2008-08-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

My parents were here all week, and they just left this weekend. What a joy it was to have them here, and to be able to share all my experiences with them, and what I´ve been experiencing for the past year.

When I first saw them in the airport, they both came running up to me to give me a big hug, and my mom almost started crying. I was so excited to see them, and even more excited that I was about to share my new life with them. I was so excited to get up the mountain the next morning, I had to keep myself from yelling at my dad to go up the hill faster (they rented a car).

Well, lucky us, while we were inching up the awful road up to my site, the car all of a sudden stopped working. It started just fine, but wouldn´t accelerate. I looked back at my mom, and for the first time in the trip, she had a look of sheer horror on her face. We were in the middle of the mountain, with no houses anywhere near us, and no people in sight. Luckily, they had me. I quickly got out my phone, and called a friend of mine from my town who knows quite a bit about cars, and asked him what to do. He told me I had to go on foot to the next town (about a 45 minute walk) and find a mechanic.

So I did. I headed off alone, and left my parents to guard the car. Alone and helpless, not able to speak a word of spanish. I raced in to look for a mechanic, and after a lot of walking, waiting, and arguing with the mechanic after finally finding him (he was hesitant to come help), I finally got in his car and drove with him out towards where I had left my parents. When we got to the main road, and were about to turn down to go find them, we ran into them right there. Apparantly, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the car started working again while I was gone. I asked the mechanic to look over the car just in case, and thanked him for his help and asked him if we owed him anything. With a little wink, he said to me ¨just your number.¨ Kind of smooth, and more impressive than most Honduran men. But I politely refused anyway.

After this little dilemma, we got to my town later than I had hoped, but still with plenty of energy and joy because we were all together! More stories later to come.....

San Marcos

2008-08-05T13:18:00.000-07:00

My first experience actually selling the jam we made with the ladies was incredible. We went to a nice town called San Marcos during their town fair (always a big event in Honduras) to sell the jelly and wine (made from starfruit.....mmhhhh, mmhhh!)

I was more impressed with them than I ever have been with any salesman I've met. The minute we got there, the women were on a mission to sell this delicious jelly they had made just a day earlier. We didn't actually have a real post paid for, because that would have cost way too much, and seeing as we are just starting out, we couldn't afford the price. So, what we (or should I say "they") did instead was announce the sale of our jellies to the fellow coffee producers who were there at the event, then proceeded to run around the streets, knock on doors, and push the jelly into people's faces until they sold them all.

I was actually completely taken aback. Two of the women that had gone were very foreward and outgoing, and the third was a little quieter. But by the end of the day, even she was going up to random people on the streets, convincing them of how delicious our jelly is, and how it's "vale la pena" (or worth it) to buy a little. I, however, ran away to go to the bank for a while and print out more labels, as we had run out of them. I was making excuses to myself saying "it's really them who should be selling the jelly, not me" or "it's important that I print off these labels, although we sold the first half without them." But the truth is, I was scared. I've always hated selling things, since I was a girl scout in elementary school. And I didn't have the motivation or the courage to go around selling jelly at the time, either.

These women, on the other hand, had enthusiasm, talent, and determination, and God knows who gave them all that motivation, because I sure didn't. Instead, I ran away and hoped they would get the work done while I was gone. And when I got back, to my surprise, they had. In 2 short hours, they had sold 10 pounds worth of jelly and 10 bottles of wine. Not bad for a first day on the job. Not bad at all.

There have been times when I've worried about these women, and the lack of organization they have. But they've really taken this idea and run with it. They've come to accept the cooperative as their own, so much that they even forget that I formed it for them. And that's exactly how I like it. Even if I get no credit in the end, at least they feel proud of something that they created. Which they really did. All I did was round them up and put them in a room together. From there, they did all the talking and all the work!

How to make macaroni and cheese

2008-07-07T14:54:00.000-07:00

This title might seem rather strange to you. "Macaroni and cheese?" you might ask yourself, "But everyone knows how to make macaroni and cheese." Well, perhaps all Americans know how to make good ole mac and cheese, but come down here, and no one even knows how to open the box.

This took me by surprise when I first got down here. So many things that we know how to do, things that we take for granted, they have no idea how to do where I live. It really hit me when I gave my first computer class. The little girl walked into the room, and I told her to turn on the computer, and she just looked at me blankly. I thought she was just being stubborn at first and refusing to do it, but quickly realized that she had no idea how to turn the thing on. I was sort of taken aback. I had never even thought of the fact that she wouldn't even know how to turn it on, because she had never even seen a computer in her life.

Another example is the lack of facts that they know, that mostly comes from the lack of a good education. Many times, people would ask me if Spain was close to the US. I would kindly tell them that it wasn't anywhere near, but to be honest, in the back of my mind would sort of think how rediculous it was that they didn't know such a simple fact that I've always known and taken for granted.

I was completely humbled the other day when I asked a man in my site how to saddle my horse (yes, I bought a horse. His name, translated into english, is Champion). I took the horse to him and told him, "please help me. I have no idea how to do this." He, with a little smirk on his face, agreed and began patiently teaching me how to put the saddle on. A few of his kids, all students of mine, were sitting around watching the event, obviously amused by my total lack of knowledge in the area of horses. Each time I made a little mistake (I will admit, it was amusing), they would start cracking up. They especially enjoyed watching me put the bridle on, which is complicated, because there's a part that you have to force into the mouth of the horse. This was something that took me a while. I have a small fear of touching the mouths of animals that could potentially bite me. But I finally did it, after about 5 tries, and a chorus of laughter coming from the kids and the dad each time.

This was a very humbling experience for me. I realized that these people have grown up surrounded by horses. Just like I've grown up having geography facts fed to me. Saddling a horse is something that they take for granted, and have always known to do, so when they see someone who has no idea how to do it, they find it almost shocking. Just like when I meet someone who doesn't know where Spain is, I find it slightly shocking. They are very intelligent, but in different ways. Obviously they can't help the fact that they were never taught in school where Spain is, and I can't help the fact that I never grew up around horses. That's why I'm here. To learn from what they know, and to teach them what I know. Even if it's something as simple as how to saddle a horse.

when life hands you a mango....

2008-07-07T14:30:00.000-07:00

Why not make jelly with it?

The jelly training was interesting to say the least. The first day of the training, the women showed up ready and excited at 9 o'clock sharp (something that I rarely see here in Honduras), only to have to wait 3 more hours until the woman showed up to do the training. It was an incredibly stressful event for me, calling the man who picked up the lady doing the training, trying to convince the women not to leave, and just stressing out in general over whether or not the idea to make jellies was grand, or a grand disaster.

Right when they showed up, though, the women went to work, preparing the jelly. I was impressed by their work ethic and enthusiasm. They also learned very quickly, most of the time much quicker than me. Various times, when I was trying to help the women cut the mangos, boil the jelly, or add the sugar, they would tell me "no, Elizabeth. It's like this, not like that. You have to do this."

The first day, we made mango jelly. As well as the second day. The third day, we moved onto papaya and banana jelly, and finally pineapple. I think I ate more sugar that week than I normally do in 2 months......but oh, was it worth it! The mango jelly is excellent. Not to sweet, not too mangoey, a perfect tropical flavor that would go well with any type of bread, or shortbread cookie. The pineapple is surprisingly sweet and tangy. Delicious, but very expensive to make, because one whole pineapple only makes about half a pound of jelly (about half the amount as mangoes, bananas and papayas). The papaya jelly was excellent as well. It has a pinkish color, and a rich, sweet flavor. The banana, although it may seem strange, was my favorite. The texture didn't really turn out to be very jelly-like, it had more of a texture of gerber baby food. But it was absolutely delicious.....a perfect topping or ingredient for chocolate cake!

So now, after making the jellies, we are trying to find a market for them. For now, we are just taking the jelly everywhere we go.....to celebrations, to fairs, etc. But I hope to find them a more permanent, steady market like at a supermarket, or even exporting them to the states! But we have to start small. And then think big........until next time.

fruit and english

2008-06-06T09:26:00.000-07:00

Hello, all. Well, it seems that my work has slowly become less and less coffee-focused, and more and more fruit-focused as well as youth-focused! That is just fine with me, I like coffee lots, but actually working on the production is not quite as thrilling as it sounds. I prefer fruit and kids!

In two weeks, the women in my group are going to be in a training all week long (the trainers are coming to my town) on how to make jelly from all the delicious fruit in our town! I am really excited about the training, and hope it will go really well. Since the last time I wrote, we have only had one meeting, although we were supposed to have three, but the people running the show never showed up (an NGO from a city about a 3 hour drive away). Both times that they didn´t show up, all the women showed up though, and are still as animated as ever to work, although the people have stood them up 2 times as well as have changed the dates of the training 2 times! Oh, goodness. I still hope everything goes well, and I think it will!

Besides that, I´ve been teaching English in the school on the weekends, which I truly enjoy. It brings me so much happiness seeing these kids grow, and understand concepts slowly. I also love trying to figure out what I get do better to help them understand.....does this mean I should be a teacher? Hmmmmm.......not quite sure! Next time, I will be writing about how the training went! Until next time, my friends. Adios.

typical campo experiences

2008-05-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

I just had my friend Lisa from Aquinas come visit me. She was only there for two days, barely enough time at all to get to know my town, but apparently just enough time to experience practically every normal and funny experience I have had since I've been here. Here are a few of them-

1-getting a plate of food without a fork, and having no idea how to eat it
2-getting some strange piece of fruit at a family's house, and sitting and staring at it for a while before someone finally notices that you have no idea what to do with it, then helps you out
3-seeing a pig in the middle of the road, followed by a couple of chickens
4-having teenage boys in the neighborhood very obviously, awkwardly, and shamelesly try to take a picture of you with their camera phone
5-going to church and getting stared down by the little kids at first, but by the end of the service, they have all migrated to the seat behind you, and are continually touching you, playing with your hair, and calling your name
6-little kids asking you to sing a song in English, or to teach them some words in English
7-walking close to an hour to the next town, and finally, when there's only about half a mile to go, a car passes by and gives you a ride, which is practically pointless by this time
8-trying to convince the families your visiting that you have to go, and them telling you "no, don't go now. Who cares if you have to walk in the dark?"
9-while you're walking back at night alone because you gave in to the family's pleads, about everyone you pass yells "what are you doing out so late? be careful! You're gonna get robbed!"
10-being visited very awkwardly and inappropriately late at night by a man who's try to "steal your heart" as they say (this obviously didn't happen to her, but she was lucky enough to experience it)

We also had many other experiences like, going and visiting gold mines, joking around with silly people in my town, making guacamole out of remains of food in my house, doing skits in English in front of my English classes and trying to get them to tell us what we said (during the skit, we also added a few rediculous phrases in there just for our own amusement!), and many other good times just in a couple short days! I was really happy to have someone from home come visit, especially Lisa, because she's so laid back and thinks just like me in many situations. When she left, I felt my heart sink a little, knowing that that comforting feeling of having constant company was gone.....and here I am again. Just like it was before. Only now, everyone won't stop asking me when Lisa's coming back.

The second meeting...

2008-05-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

We alrealdy had our second meeting yesterday, and things seem to be moving quickly. Almost too quickly. We decided in the last meeting that the women want to make jams and jewlery. The idea of recycling plastics, although an excellent idea, was just getting to be too complicated. Maybe later, when we are more organized, but it was a little difficult trying to figure out how we would store it, how we would carry it out of the town, and most importantly, who would buy it? These things, obviously, must be considered before starting any business, and I´m proud of them for thinking of it (mainly because Hondurans are often known to jump into something with both feet, without thinking of the consequences beforehand).

So it´s fruit that we are doing. And perhaps jewlery or some other kind of craft. And I am in charge of looking for contacts in the US. So, if any of my loyal readers have any suggestions for where to sell jams or artisan stuff, just let me know. Or any ideas on what kinds of artisan things to do, just let me know.

Until next time....

The first meeting....

2008-04-24T10:04:00.000-07:00

The women´s group that I mentioned in this blog about 2 months ago, finally had their first meeting a couple of days ago! Although many of you may be thinking, ¨what the heck was this girl doing for 2 months?¨ I will just remind you all once again, that I am working in Latin America. Enough said (I say that not as a slam against them, just a mere fact. All the Hondurans I know, at least, would agree whole-heartedly).

Well, this meeting went exceptionally well, considering about half the women were invited just the day before, and the other half had to walk at least an hour on foot to get there! The group of people that came to help out the women did a lot more than I expected. When I went to talk to the man, he gave me an already prepared talk about the recycling projects that he worked with in his town. I expected him only to come and give us a talk about that. However, they came instead, to talk about their organization, the importance of woman leadership in Honduras, as well as the roles of men and women in the household.

At one point, one of the women from the organization got up and did an example of the typical day of a Honduran man, and of a Honduran woman. The women had to give examples of what they and their husbands did in their daily routine. The room filled with laughter as some of the women started shouting in detail all the work they did in a day, and others began imitating their husbands asking for dinner while lying in a hammock. At the end, we could all see that the man´s day, which started at 5 am, and ended at 2 in the afternoon (the rest of the day is spent in the hammock), consisted of much less work than that of a woman, who´s day usually started at 3, sometimes 2 in the morning (she had to get up and prepare the lunch for the man to bring to work!), and ended at around 8 at night!

After the illustration, the woman very tactfully told the women, that this was meant for the women to go back to their homes and shout at their husbands, telling them how much more work they did then the men. It was simply to help the women realize that it´s okay sometimes to tell their husband that they have other work to do (like this cooperative), and don´t have time to make dinner. Or that they aren´t feeling very well, and can´t get up to clean after them. In a kind and loving way. Some of the women that I know in my town, I don´t think would ever think twice to say something like that to their husbands because they are too shameful, or don´t know anything different. But I was extremely happy to see another Honduran woman get up and empower these women. It is something that I, in the role that I am in, and the fact that I come from a different culture completely, could not do quite as effectively.

The next step of the cooperative is coming up with an idea, with what type of business we would like to have. When we think of that, we will meet again with this organization, and they will bring us through the process, step by step, to help us get the project off the ground. It is exciting to see, and I really hope it will continue to work!

CSA in Honduras

2008-04-08T14:11:00.000-07:00

CSA stands for community supported agriculture. I'm sure many of you know by now what a CSA is, but for those of you who don't, a CSA is when a community members pay a local farmer a set amount of money per week, and they get a basket of all the fresh veggies that they have available for that week. So for instance, one week, someone could get a bushel of green beans, 5 tomatoes, 10 carrots, 2 ounces of basil, and 1 head of lettuce. But another week, they could get 2 green peppers, 1 head of lettuce, 10 tomatoes and 2 carrots depending on the amount of harvest that week. But no matter what, they always pay the same thing, so it doesn't get confusing or too complicated. It is really cool, and a good way especially to help support local farmers.

Well, this idea was presented to my director by the wife of a UN worker living in Honduras. She says that it's really hard to find good, organic fruits and vegetables here in Honduras, so she has been looking elsewhere. Well, the farmers of my cooperative produce an ungodly amount of vegetables. So many, that especially during mango season, there is just tons of fruit rotting on the ground, because it's too much for people to eat.

So I met with her this week, and am very excited with the results. She was telling me that she knows enough people in Honduras (mostly foriegners) who are more than willing to pay a higher price for organic fruits, as well as pay for transportation to get it up to Tegucigulpa and delivered to their doors weekly.

This is a great opportunity for the cooperative, because it with reliable clients, at a good and fixed price, and it will get them used to the idea of selling to a client regularly. And from there, hopefully we can broaden our horizons.

A typical day

2008-04-01T07:38:00.001-07:00

About a month ago, a friend wrote me and asked me to describe my typical day. I loved the idea, because although it is something so simple that I never think to recount to my friends and family when I talk to them, it really gives them a much clearer idea of what my life is like here in Peace Corps Honduras.

5:30 am--I am usually woken up by the sound of the first bus passing my house, and the shouts that come from it. Then I go right back to sleep.
6:30 am--I am usually woken up again by the second bus. This time, I am a little more awake, but I still fall back asleep for another hour or so.
7:30--wake up, but lay in bed for a good 15 minutes, trying to either plan out my day so I´m not bored to tears, or pray for the strength to do something that I am scared of or not looking foreward to
8:00-eat breakfast and get ready to go to the cooperative
8:30--show up at the cooperative for computer classes that I´m giving to some of the kids of the members of the cooperative. The class was supposed to start at 8, but neither I nor the student ever show up on time.
8:30-10:30ish--teach classes. This mostly consists of me trying my best to describe tiny little functions on word and excel to my student, and then waiting with anguish and impatience while watching them try for what seems like hours to figure out how to, for example, copy a sentence onto the next line, something which I just taught them how to do 5 seconds ago. Sometimes it takes everything in me to keep from shouting ¨no, you don´t do that, you do this! I just showed you, how could you have already forgotten?!?!?!¨ Ah, the pains of teaching technology to people who, the closest they´ve come to a computer in their whole lives is maybe seeing a picture of it in their school text books.
10:30ish-12:00--up in the air. I usually fool around at the cooperative, chatting, looking for work, or playing solitaire on the computer (so I´m not gonna lie to you guys, okay? It´s not always %100 work here)
12:00-1:00--this is usually up in the air, too. It is always definately lunch time, but where I go for lunch, it always depends. Sometimes I go to my house and make a feast (in other words, pasta, rice and beans, or stir-fry). Other days, when I´m feeling lazy, I go visit a near-by family and they always love to feed me :) Other days, though, when I´m feeling especially motivated, I take a hike to a nearby town (usually about an hour walk) to visit the people there, and talk to women about the women´s group. They usually feed me there, too!
1:00-7:00 or 8:00--work time. Usually consists of doing a job for the cooperative, teaching environmental education or English in the elementary schools, or lately it has been working on the women´s cooperative. Either going to the nearby towns to talk to women, doing surveys on the amount of trash the town produces in a week (unusually large), or things like that. Usually by night time, I go to one of the near-by houses again for a night/dinner visit (I almost never have to cook for myself, hehe!) and if the family has TV, I usually watch the telenovela that I had to leave when I left my host family´s house, because I´m still very interested to know who´s cheating on who, and who´s threatening who with death threats! Oh, spanish telenovelas, gotta love them!
8:00-10:00--my time! I love going back to my little house and making some hot tea, and sitting out on my hammock and reading a book. Or, when the stars are especially bright, I bring my yoga mat out onto the patio in front of my house, and lay down and watch the stars!
10:00--bed time.

So that´s practically my normal day. Except on special days, obviously, like Saturdays, when I spend the whole morning teaching, and the whole afternoon trying to decided whether to spend it in my hammock, or visiting families. Or Sundays, when I usually go to mass or pretend mass (that´s what I like to call it when the priest isn´t there) in the morning, and then invite myself over to a family´s house for lunch and try to fend off the bolos (drunk men....they love to drink on Sundays) in the afternoon.

A quiet realization

2008-03-25T08:56:00.000-07:00

I have this friend in my town, who is a boy about my age. Our frienship is actually somewhat secretive, because if the people in our town saw us talking, or walking down the street together, they would begin to say things about us.

I have been blessed to have him as a friend in my town, because not only is it nice to have a male friend who treats me as an actual person instead of a prize to be won, but it has also been very eye-opening being able to get a male perspective on the culture and differences between the theirs and ours. Our conversations usually end up talking about machisma, or the difference between dating customs here and there. He always agrees with me that men shouldn´t have more than one woman, and that the men here are known to be more unfaithful then others around the world.

Usually, these conversations end up fine, or we change the subject without thinking twice about the heaviness of the topic (A white woman and honduran man talking about machisma? It´s a miracle they don´t end in a screaming match every time!) But the other night, we were talking about it, and the subject got a little heated, when I started asking him about the roles of a husband and wife, and how they are different in the states. At this point, he seemed to get offended, and began to say ¨really, there is no difference between the two cultures! They´re all the same!¨ At one point, I told him ¨but you just don´t understand, you´ve never been to the states!¨ He looked at me, offended, and said ¨well, you don´t understand our culture either!¨ And left without saying anything else.

I sat there in silence, wondering what I had done to make him so mad, regretting ever having gotten on the subject. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I really don´t understand. The things that bother me about the culture here, I will never ever understand fully, because I wasn´t brought up in it, immersed in it, and never told anything different like they were. ¨What right do I have?¨ I thought ¨To come here from a situation so much more privelaged and diverse than theirs, and judge their way of life?¨ I don´t.

This realization hasn´t changed my attitude about machisma or the need for more independent, strong woman. I still believe that the way some women are treated here is horrible, and it needs to change. But it certainly has changed the way in which I go about discussing it with people, and looking at the situation as a whole. It is a delicate situation, and if I want to change people´s attitudes at all, I have to begin with a more respectful attitude. For them, this is the way life is, and there´s nothing any different. I have no right to even look at the men with a critical eye for acting the way they do, or treating the women the way they do until I at least try to understand better the environment in which they grew up. Although I may never understand completely, I hope to come to a better understanding and respect of the differences in culture during my time here. I also owe my friend an apology.

St. Anthony

2008-03-04T07:01:00.000-08:00

There is a really crazy cool tradition in my site that happens every so often, sporadically. It is actually a tradition in all of Honduras, Nicaragua and El Salvador.

St. Anthony, apparently an adored saint in Central America, is one of the saints most often prayed to. It is tradition, that when someone prays to St. Anthony, they will promise him an entire day devoted to prayer, where they have a celebration, and pray the rosary from dawn till dusk, and people from all over the area come to pray and to give offerings to St. Anthony. The coolest part of the tradition is that they first have to go to a ¨nearby¨ town whose patron saint (yes, all the towns have patron saints) is St. Anthony. This town is about a 4 hour walk away from my town, and a few men usually go on horseback to the town to take the statue of St. Anthony back to the house where the prayer service is going to be.

When they are about to reach the town, they set off a firecracker (which basically sounds like a gunshot) in order to let the women in the house know they are coming. Then, the women go out to meet the men in the street, and they have a little fiesta in the middle of the street with singing, guitars playing, and dancing. Then, they all go into the house and begin the first rosary. They pray the rosary at least 10 times a day, with a break in between each time they pray, and different people coming in and out all day to pray or bring offerings to the saint.

The last time they had this event, I didn´t hear about it until after they had met in the street, unfortunately. But I did go later in the day to pray the rosary. When I arrived, there were three men in the corner of the room playing their guitars and singing ranchero songs about girls and being drunk. They also looked a little intoxicated themselves. Apparently, by the end of the day, many of the men get a little too happy from the beers they have been drinking all day! In there, were also a couple of women waiting patiently for the next rosary to start. I was excited to see this statue that I had been told about, and that they had gone through so much to get. I began looking around, but all I saw was a tiny little figurine sitting on a table at the front of the room. I asked one of the ladies ¨where is St. Anthony?¨ She pointed to the front of the room at the little figurine ¨there it is.¨ She exclaimed. I was shocked to see that the statue that they had gone through so much to get, and had revered so much was nothing more than a tiny little figurine no bigger than my hand. It was just another little reminder of the humble, steadfast faith that the people have in my town.

the dream

2008-02-26T09:10:00.000-08:00

The other day, my sister told me about a dream she had about me. It was incredibly profound, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

In the dream, we were both riding a bike. I was the one who was pedaling, and my sister was riding behind me. After riding for a while, we came to a huge hill, practically impossible to get up. But I decided to start going up it anyway. As I began to pedal up, my sister started screaming at me to stop, saying ¨what the hell are you doing? You’re gonna get us killed, you could never do this, it’s impossible!¨ But I kept on pedaling, trying my best to ignore her.

Finally, after we had reached about 3/4ths of the way I stopped, and we both fell to the ground. And sitting there on the ground, I started bawling and bawling. In between tears, I looked up at my sister and asked her ¨why didn’t you just let me do it? I could have done it, why did you keep telling me to stop?¨

This dream was so profound not just for me, but I think everyone can learn something from it. I told it to my 7th grade class (I just started teaching classes on Saturdays again) the first day of classes. After telling them the story, I asked them what it meant. They all looked at me shyly, searching for the right answer.

I told them that it meant that they can’t always listen to their friends, family, and society when they tell them something is impossible, or that it has never been done. They just have to keep pushing and listening to themselves.

The funny thing, is that I have thought about the dream over and over again, wondering especially who the person on the back of the bike is that is keeping me from doing the impossible. I finally cam to the conclusion that it’s me. I am weighing myself down. Every time I think of a new project, or something to do, I just tell myself ¨oh, no one would listen to me¨ or ¨nobody does that, so I shouldn’t either.¨ After Sarah told me about the dream, I have been conscious about those types of thoughts, realizing that they really do keep me from doing my best work that I could do. Sometimes numerous times in a day, I will catch myself saying ¨no, I can’t do that, that’s impossible for me.¨

So I will continue each day, praying for the strength to do the impossible, because I know that if I keep listening to the voices inside of me telling me I can’t do it, I won’t be able to reach the top of the hill.

ummm.......awkward......

2008-02-20T12:50:00.000-08:00

There is no word for awkward in Spanish. The closest that comes to it is ¨incomodo¨, which means literally ¨uncomfortable.¨ This is obviously not the same as the word awkward, a word which almost cannot be described without giving an example of an awkward situation, or perhaps an awkward person.

It is actually quite ironic that there is not a word in spanish for awkward, as I have gotten myself into more awkward situations since I have been here than I ever have in my life. I do not know if it actually has anything to do with the Honduran culture. I actually think it has more to do with the tiny size of my town, and the fact that people spend their entire lives socializing with the same people, and never meeting anyone new. Because of this, they have almost no idea how to relate to outsiders.

This was something I definately had to adjust to when I got to my site. When I would go and visit a new house, sometimes I was welcomed with warm arms, and people would not be able to stop asking questions about the States, or what my family was like. Other times, it was a little more difficult. A couple times, I have arrived at a new house only to be met by stares from every single member of the family, and complete silence when I sit down to have a conversation. After about 5 minutes about asking questions about their family and about the weather, I would run out of things to say, and just sit there in silence.

I have gotten so used to this way of life, that it doesn´t really affect me anymore. In fact, I kind of enjoy it. As oppose to in the States, when someone comes to visit, the host feels like they have to be entertained the entire time with conversation, music, or games. However, when I have gone to visit houses, many times I just sit in silence for a while, completely content to just be in the company of others.

Other times, in the middle of conversation the woman I am visiting will get up to make me lunch or dinner, and leave me just sitting there, staring at the wall by myself. But by the end of the visit, she comes back, and we begin to talk about the father of her first child, who left her while she was pregnant at 17, and has never come back to visit. I leave the visit with my belly full, and a new outlook on the lives of the women here in the country in Honduras, and feel that much closer to the woman I visited.

I wrote this blog in response to what my sister Sarah wrote in her blog about feeling awkward when she came here to visit. It is really interesting, but in the situations where she felt awkward, I felt calm and relaxed. She mentioned that if we both had felt the same way, we would have left that visit without lunch, or having the great conversation we ended up having.

So, if I come back to the States an awkward, non-social mess, I am sorry. But I have come to really appreciate the way people are here. There doesn´t exist a word for awkward for them, perhaps because awkwardness doesn´t exist. It´s all in the heads of the people who are in the situation. And when someone begins to feel awkward, they miss so many wonderful opportunities!

Just another night....

2008-02-05T14:47:00.000-08:00

A couple nights ago was the culmination of the town fair in the next town over for me. These town fairs usually last for a couple weeks with food, rides, ect...you know, the standard fair necessities. And always at the end of the fair, is a blow-out dance that lasts into the wee hours of the night.

Now I had heard about this fair since the day I arrived at my site, and was no less than ecstatic to go. I got all ready to go, and left on foot with one of my girlfriends (who am I kidding? I only have girlfriends! Which is a good thing...) from the town.

The walk started out pretty wonderfully, the sun was going down, and it was all downhill, which was a plus. I also refused to wear my shoes, so the dust of the road and gravel were a pleasant feeling on the soles of my feet. Eventually, about 1 hour in, I began to get a little hungry and weary. My shoes had gone back on due to the rocky terrain, and my feet were developing blisters in about 6 different places. The only thing I had to look forward to was the goal in front of me. I kept chanting to myself ¨I think I can, I think I can.....¨ All I wanted to do was dance, man!

When the rocky road finally turned into the cobblestone streets of the town, I almost burst with joy. ¨We're here!¨ I thought, ¨And only two hours till the dancing begins!¨ Why we had gotten there so early was beyond me. However, I wasn´t bitter at all (this is sarcasm) when we came upon some others from our town who had arrived only half an hour later than us in a truck. ¨why didn't you just come with us?¨ They had asked. I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled between gritted teeth while still feeling the burn in my feet.

After filling my belly and drinking too much pop (due to various men who offered to buy me beers, but I refused, knowing what that could do to my reputation), the dancing began. I danced with my first victim (or I should say I was the victim...) for a couple songs, quickly realizing that he was quite drunk (already?) and hitting on me with rediculous force. For some reason, I accepted dancing with him to a slow song. Big mistake. The entire time he was whispering sweet-nothings into my ear, trying to pull me closer. Finally, when the song ended, I didn't even say anything, I just simply fled from his arms, and spent the rest of the time ducking behind trees trying to avoid him.

I tried to have better judgement since, and decided that if I could smell beer on their breath, they were out. This was a good measurement for a good dancing partner, and fortunately the next few men I danced with were much better, although I still had to make up an excuse every time in order to escape from them. One of them was actually an extremely fun person to dance to, and my absolute favorite becuase he didn't talk to me the entire time! As I always say (since I got here, that is) silence is much better than hearing how beautiful my eyes are (as a starry night? As a sunset on a placid lake? As those of a princess? Take your pick......).

So as the night winded down, I decided it was pretty successful. I had successfully danced the night away, managed not to give my number out to any guys, danced with a fair number of men so as not to arrouse gossip, had my fair share of good conversation, and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

The walk back to the truck that was going to take us to our town (no way were we going to walk it at 3 in the morning!) was more than interesting. As I was walking back, my friend and the only other girl walking with us disappeared in front of me, leaving me alone with about 5 men. As I was walking down the street with my arms crossed, I noticed one of the guys in front of me start to take off his shirt. I thought to myself ¨what the hell is this man doing? it´s freezing.¨ At that moment, as if he had been thinking the same thing, he put it back on. A couple minutes later, I overheard a few of the other guys talking about me, and pushing one of the others over to me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to notice as he walked towards me and started to take his shirt of as well.

I saw him freeze in his footsteps, and walk shyly back to the group of guys, only to be pushed back to me once again. Finally, in a surprisingly smooth manner, he asked me if I was cold and if I wanted to wear his shirt. Grinning at him, and trying my best to hold back my laughter, I agreed realizing how much he had gone through to gather up the courage to ask. Immediately after, the guy who had started to take off his shirt earlier said to me ¨I was going to give you my shirt, but I didn´t have another one....¨

So that was my night. Just another day in the life of a gringa in Honduras. Although I get fed up with the rediculous attention I get from men, sometimes a small act of chivalry makes up for it!

girl power

2008-02-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

So, for those of you who aren't very familiar with the culture of Hondurans in rural areas, there is such a thing as ¨machisma.¨ This basically means that woman are often treated un-fairly mainly because their husbands have an immense power over them: money. Men in the rural areas are virtually the only ones who work, and the woman is left at home to take care of the kids. Now, I am obviously not speaking against this, as my mother was a stay-at-home mom for many years. However, I am pretty sure that one way or another, she could have pretty easily figured things out if my dad had left her. It is a little different here. If a woman and man get divorced here, the man is okay, but the woman is left with virtually nothing. There isn't any McDonalds in the rural area that she could go and work at!

Unfortunatley, men constantly use this power to their advantage, often having a woman on the side, which is quite acceptable. Sometimes you just have to hear it from their own mouths to believe it. I had heard this numerous times before I came down here. I believed it, but it is one thing to just believe it. It´s another to hear men, even women talking about the numerous women they have as if it is no big deal. Or watching how men completely ignore their wives in public (and sometimes at home, as well), which I feel is one of the worst forms of abuse.

I have also noticed how women who live in the rural towns carry themselves. People who grow up in the country in general are often known as ¨humble campesinos¨ mainly becuase they spend most of their life in one area, almost never get out, and almost never have a vision of anything beyond what they know. Even more, many are un-educated, and live their whole lives seeing women and men in a certain role, and don't realize that there is any other way it possibly could be. Because of these factors, especially in the case of women, they often carry themselves as if they were nothing.....just as they are often treated.

This is one of the saddest things for me to watch here, especially after spending time one-on-one with some of these women, or watching them interact with other women from their town. Many of them are extremely witty, attractive, intelligent and capable. However, when they get in certain situations, for instance, when surrounded by men, they close up and seem almost like a shy child, hiding reluctantly behind his mother.

On the other hand, I have met some incredible women who have somehow been able to see beyond these roles, and are stronger than ever, often putting men in their places. There are a few women who are members of the cooperative, one of which is the president of the cooperative. They are each surprisingly respected greatly among the men, partially because they carry themselves with such confidence, and don't take any crap from any of them!

This is one of the reasons I have started working more with the women in my town. Up until now, I have spent almost all my time with men, members of the coffee co-op, which can get a little draining. When I got the idea to start a women´s cooperative, or just any sort of women´s group, where women can gather support from one another, I was ecstatic. With this idea, I wish for nothing more that to give the women of my town a little more hope and a little more self-confidence. If that is through going to seminars, or starting a craft to generate some sort of income, I am ready. With your prayers, I will be more ready!

A night on the top of the world

2008-01-22T18:41:00.000-08:00

I know my little sis Sarah already wrote about this night, but I wanted to be able to write it from my perspective:

One of the last nights Sarah was with me, we were suddenly approached in the park we were sitting at by two older men. They began chatting with us, and we soon found out that they knew some of the same people I knew from the area, including other Peace Corps volunteers.

At one point in the conversation, they asked me what I had studied in the University. My major being Theology, I always hesitate to tell people this answer, I'll admit. Perhaps it is because I don't like to be judged right away as someone extremely ¨religious¨ however they may define the word (although I probably am by many definitions). Or perhaps it is because my spirituality is something very personal to me, and I don't like it to be anounced to strangers right away. Therefore, when they questioned me, I answered hesitantly. However, when I gave them the answer, both their eyes widened with joy and excitement, and one of them exclaimed ¨wow, I've never spoken with a theologian before!¨

Immediately, one of the men asked me and Sarah if we would like to go to the top of the belltower of the Cathedral. From there, we sat chatting about mundane things for a bit. But before long, the chatter turned into heated discussion of the theology of the church, and its position in the world as well as its obligation to help the poor. The discussion started with one of the men questioning me about old theologians I had studied. I could tell that this subject was something that had been on his mind for a long time, and had been dying to get it off his chest. I sat there for almost an hour, discussing the beauty of the doctrine of the Church, the obligation it has to help all human beings, and even compared Catholicism to Buddhism. All the time, with my broken Spanish and perhaps simple worded arguments due to my lack of vocabulary in the realm of theology. But despite this, I felt that every time I gave an argument, they looked at me and listened with a deep respect that I was almost taken aback by.

As the conversation died, I looked out the window over the city, thanking God for such a beautiful night. I was able to delve into the souls of these men, seeing what was important to them on the absolute deepest level, and even was able to help them a little bit to understand, perhaps, the teachings of the Church and Her role in the world. All because I had majored in Theology. It is at times like that when I know that even if I never continue with my degree, it was worth studying just for that moment.

taxi drivers continued.....

2008-01-18T13:15:00.000-08:00

I decided to split up the funny stories blog so as not to make it one long exhaustive one. Here is another funny story about taxi drivers. You either love 'em or you hate 'em.

The night we got to Tegucigulpa, I found out about 15 minutes after getting out of the taxi that I had accidentally left my wallet sitting on the seat of the cab, which contained 2 debit cards, some money and both my I.D. cards. I was devastated. Not only was I afraid of losing tons of money, I knew that I would have to spend the majority of the next day figuring out what to do and getting a new I.D. card.......and my meeting started at 8 o'clock the next day.

Hoping to get there at at least 10 in the morning, I rushed to the Peace Corps office the next day and asked them what to do. First, they had me go to the police office and write a report, and then to another place to take pictures for my I.D. This of course, took until about 11 in the morning. Knowing that the meeting didn't end until the afternooon, I was still rushing around at least get there for a little bit of the meeting. Me and Sarah then climbed into a taxi that took us to the immigration office.

Our taxi driver this time was a character, who, during the entire 20-minute taxi ride, told us stories of the time he spent in the states, his Puerto Rican lover that he left in the states, but still seemed to be in love with, and the farm he grew up on in Eastern Honduras, where everyone owns a horse and at least 2 pistols.

As I stepped out of the cab, the few moments of joy and relief I had gotten from chatting with the cab driver quickly vanished. I opened the doors to the immigration office, only to find that the woman had gone on luch, and I stood waiting there for at least a half hour. By time I left the office, I was basically at the end of my wits after so many people who had cut in front of me (lines apparently don't exist here), the rediculous amount of time it took to do EVERYTHING, and the apparant disinterest of everyone that I HAD A MEETING TO GO TO!!!

The taxi drivers who were parked out front of the office, just like the ones who had been in the front of the mall, we sure in for a treat! As soon as they gave me the price, I began arguing with them, saying "Don't give me that! You are screwing me over and you know it, you all know it! It is NOT that far from here to where I'm going!" As the arguments escalated, my voice got louder and louder until I was practically screaming in their faces. Finally, I threw my arms up, and walked away, planning on walking down the side of the highway until I found someone who would take me at the price I asked for. This time, I left Sarah standing there awkwardly, apologizing to the taxi drivers for my behaviour saying, "she's had a loooooong day." After walking barely a block, we found a taxi driver that would take us for a whole 10 Lempiras less than what the other ones offered us ($0.50). Although not the price I was hoping for, I was satisfied and hopped in the car. As we drove past the mob of taxi drivers I screamed and made vulgar guestures at them in my anger. After about a minute of silence, Sarah burst out laughing saying "Lizzy! You were acting like a crazy woman!" I couldn't help but join in here laughter, replaying the recent events in my head. "Those damn taxi drivers.............."

Funny Stories with Sarah and Liz....and taxi drivers

2008-01-18T12:47:00.000-08:00

The other day, my mother told me that she and my older sister Theresa were laughing until their cheeks hurt talking about the huge differences between me and Sarah, who just left today after a 2 week long visit, and how rediculous we might be traveling together.

This can't be farther from the truth. In fact, we got along the entire time we were there. Haha. Just kidding, mom. Here are a couple of silly stories from our trip that, if it had been turned into a movie, would be a great comic success.

One of the first days that we got there, I had to go to a meeting in the big city, Tegucigulpa, which always scares me out of my wits when I wander around there alone. We got off the bus at a mall, the safest option for me, and decided to roam around the mall a little before we took a taxi to the house we were staying at for the night.

As we were leaving the mall, a herd of taxi drivers bombarded us, asking us where we wanted to go. We told them, and they told us they would charge us a rediculous amount that I refused to pay. I began to argue with them, little me standing in a circle of taxi drivers who were all giving me the same price and weren't backing down, even though they knew they were screwing me over. I was being stubborn, and tried to keep arguing, when Sarah stomped off the other way, sick of standing there and making a scene. I didn't want to leave, because I didn't want to lose the fight, so I stood there for a while, before I realized my little sister was leaving me there to fend for myself.

I ran after her screaming, asking why she had left me. We then began to argue fairly loudly at each other as we were walking down a dark path from the mall to the main highway. In the middle of our screaming match (okay, maybe we weren't screaming, but we were sure pretty furious at each other), a police man came up to us and asked us where we were going, and that we shouldn't be walking there alone at night. We told him where we were trying to go, and he seemed more than happy to help us. He even walked with us down to the highway to get us a taxi at a fair price. As he was walking us down to the highway, he began to ask us questions about ourselves in a fairly flirtatious way. At one point, he pointed out to us his fancy motorcycle that he gets to ride around on every day for work. We both looked at the motorcycle and exclaimed "oooooh!" simultaneously, then quickly exchanged big grins, holding back our laughter. As we approached the highway, his fellow police officers looked at him with wide grins as if to say "how did you get these lovely gringas to talk to you? You tiger, you!"

As we got into the taxi and rode away, we doubled over laughing at the absurdity of the night. "What a clever way to pick up girls!" We exclaimed to each other. But the best thing was that we were best friends all over again, and had forgotten completely about our little tiff we had gotten into, thanks to the friendly police man.

Sarah

2008-01-07T10:32:00.000-08:00

This is the first of probably at least a couple of blogs in honor of my little sis Sarah! Because she's coming to Honduras today! Actually she's already here, and is either in the bus right now coming towards me, or lost somewhere in the big city. I hope to God it is the former, but would not be surprised at all if it's the latter.

Watch out Agua Fria, here comes my little sister! And we are going to do some serious......uh.......I forgot the word....damage? Is that right? I am becoming so enveloped in the spanish language, I'm forgetting my hip english phrases! Oh, well. I suppose that's all for the better anyways, right (I can just imagine my older sister right now laughing hysterically at my 40 year-old lady vocab.....she always said I was a 40 year-old trapped in a 22 year-old's body!)

ps-I just wanted to say thank you to my good friend Angela for the package you sent me! I was so happy to get it, I almost cried! You are so great, and I miss you sooooooo much!!!!! I am also still waiting for your package, Aunt Mary Ellen! But I will definately let you know when I get it!

What would Smokey the Bear do?

2008-01-07T10:09:00.000-08:00

The other day I had come back to my house to get ready to cook lunch, when to my surprise I found that the electricity had gone out. Actually, this wasn't a surprise at all. It was the third time it had happened that day, and about the 6th time that week. Unfortunately, when I went shopping for a stove, I did not know this little fact about our town. Therefore, I had bought an electric stove, which I can only use about half the time here, since the electricity goes out so much!

So I decided to be adventurous, and instead of having peanut butter crackers for lunch (thanks mom for sending those!) and cook on the wood stove the family I live with has. Now, I have always wanted to be a boyscout (yes, that's right....a BOYscout. They are the ones who actually go camping and learn real things. I remember being in girl scouts and to my extreme disappointment, learning nothing but how to make pot holders) and loved to go camping. But I have never claimed to be an expert on building fires. In fact, I am pretty sure I never have built one in my life, or even come close to attempting.

So I thought to myself ¨I'm here in Honduras, where most of the women cook on wood stoves. I should definately take a stab at it!¨ So I entered the room where the stove was, and saw that there were still glowing cinders inside it, from the previous fire that had been made. ¨It's my lucky day!¨ I thought to myself ¨this should be a cinch!¨ Well, boy was I wrong. About and hour later, after about 10 matches and 20 old tests from my english class, I had finally gotten a small fire started. By that time as well, I had gotten ash stains all over my clothes, and my eyes were filled with tears from the enormous amount of smoke that blew in my face every time I tried to lite the logs on fire (about every 30 seconds, I had to run out of the room and close my eyes in order to get rid of the sting from the smoke).

Finally, almost 2 hours after I had started this entire extravanganza, I sat down to a horribly unsatisfying meal of bland beans, hard rice, and cold tortillas (at this point, the peanut butter crackers were much more tempting to me). While taking my first bite, as if it had been a mean trick played on me by God, the lights came back on. Looking down at my ash-stained jeans and almost revolting meal before me, I grinned widely thinking to myself ¨now THIS is why I joined the Peace Corps!¨

Feliz Navidad

2007-12-24T13:43:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhhh! It's almost Christmas, and here I am, trapped in Honduras with no one to celebrate it with except a woman I work with, and a couple of strangers I just met yesterday! Besides that, there is absolutely no snow here, I can count the number of Chrismas trees I've seen on one hand, and the feast they are preparing doesn't contain an ounce of eggnog. This isn't Christmas!

Perhaps that's why I have felt so good about the first Christmas ever that I have to spend away from my family. It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all. Especially in the country. Practically no one puts up Christmas trees or Christmas lights. They don't believe in Santa. I think the only reason he is present here is because of comercialization from the States. They don't really exchange presents either. This is actually a custom (although I'll admit I tend to anticipate it more than anything each year!) I think our country could do without. All the comercialization of Christmas and people wrapped up in buying gifts (no pun intended) for their loved ones seems to create such a frenzy and superficial excitement, people seem to forget the real meaning of Christmas.

Now don't worry friends, I am not about to get soft on you and spout off what I believe the real meaning of Christmas is......most of you already know that. I am just saying that there is a beauty in anticipating such a great holiday in a serene, quiet place where it is barely mentioned except at night, when the women of the town go to the church to pray a novena, waiting patiently for the anticipated day. And when the day finally comes, people sit around a table, enjoy each other's company as well as a carefully prepared delicious meal. Afterwards, there is no empty feeling of ¨is that it? Is that all the presents I got?¨ or ¨wow, we've been anticipating this day for soooooo long, and now it's over? Just like that?¨ It actually feels good.

I hope all you guys are having a great time this Christmas spending it with your families! And family, don't miss me too much! I am already missing you enough for all of us. Just enjoy eachother's company, and hopefully we will be reunited for the next Christmas! And I hope you all got me some good presents! Haha, just kidding.......sort of.........

A tall skinny latte, please...this time leave out the flavoring

2007-12-18T08:12:00.001-08:00

When I went to coffee shops in the states, I always liked to try new things. I almost never would order the same thing twice, unless I really, really liked something. I supposed that is just part of my personality. I love trying new things. That's one reason why I'm down here in Honduras!

As most of you know, coffee is made of small beans, almost the size of a black bean, which is roasted and then ground into grains, which make a delicious drink. What most of you probably didn't know is that the coffee beans originally grow on trees in small berries that are the shape of blueberries, except that they turn red when ripe. And after being picked, they have a looooong ways to go before they are turned into the wonderful caffienated drink that we know and love!

First, they have to go through a maching that takes off the red outer shell. At this point, they look more like coffee beans than berries. After the shell has been taken off, they usually have to sit out for at least a day, in order to get rid of a filmy outer covering that is left on after the shell is taken off. They are then washed with clean water. During this process, the ¨bad beans¨are taken out. Usually the ones that have some of the outer shell still left on them, or do not have a bean inside the shell. These are separated, and consumed by the locals (which is why, when one goes to a coffee paradise like this where coffee is all around them, it is almost impossible to find GOOD coffee, because all the good stuff is exported, and the locals are left with the garbage). Then, the coffee is left out to dry for hours, sometimes days and days, depending on the strength of the sun. I found out while working here, that drying coffee is an art. There is a certain percentage of humidity that the coffee bean has to have, no more, no less, in order to be considered good. If it is too humid, it can have a sickly bitter taste to it. If it is too dry, it gets bland and flavorless.

The next part is the most simple, but possibly the most grueling. The coffee must be selected. The bad ones separated from the good ones. I have spent literally hours and hours separating coffee with the workers at the house I live in, only having separated about 50 pounds of coffee (about a 20th of the amount of coffee some people have) this is the most grueling, but also the most important, because the company they export their coffee to charges them for every defect the coffee has. For instance, for every 10 coffee beans they find that are black (they should be a pretty golden color), that is one defect and they get deducted the amount they get paid.

After all this is done, the coffee is brought to a warehouse, or in our case, the cooperative office, to be stored before being shipped off. This is the process we are in right now. There are 53 members in the cooperative. That means 53 different people have been coming to the cooperative ¨office¨ to drop off their coffee, weigh it, store it, and have it shipped off to the other side of the country to have it processed so it can be exported. That's right, there is still one more step to go before it can be exported. The coffee beans at this point are still in another outer shell, which needs to be stripped with another, more complicated machine that is hard to find. That is why they have to transport their coffee to have it processed and exported by a larger company.

All this work, just for one simple cup of coffee. Not to mention that all this still needs to be roasted and ground in order to make the drink! It just makes me wonder who the heck saw a bunch of red berries on a tree, and thought to himself ¨hmmm....I think I'll take the shell off of those berries, dry them in the sun, take of the other shell, roast it, ground it, and then make a drink out of it! Oh, yes, that would be delicious!¨

A shout out

2007-12-08T08:17:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to give a shout out to my little sis Mary. I just talked to her last night, and she brought me so much joy! I was so happy to see that she is doing so well in college, and getting excellent grades as well.

She also told me about an extremely difficult situation that she just went through back home. The way she recounted the story, and by her reaction I could tell that she had taken the situation with extreme maturity and rationality. That is my sister. She has always been very mature for her age, and especially when unexpected and difficult situations arise, her maturity shines through even stronger. I love you, Mary! And I hope you get a blog soon, so I can start reading it!

Please Pick for me a Rose

2007-12-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

St. Terese of Lisieux is one of the most adored and revered saints of the Catholic Church. She lived and extremely humble, simple life away and may have never been noticed so much if it hadn't been for the autobiography she wrote while in the convent, which revealed her simple, yet beautifully passionate faith for the Lord.

Right before she died, St. Terese promised to send a shower of roses down on the earth while she was in heaven. So now, whenever someone prays a Rose Novena to St. Terese, they get a rose. Obviously roses don't just come falling from the sky and into someone´s hands. Rather, they may see a rose on TV, or on a card or even a print on someone´s shirt and be reminded of God´s love. Other stories are more miraculous, like a dozen roses floating by you in a lake, while your boyfriend proposes to you in a canoe (true story).

I will admit that I never was much of a fan of these rose novenas. Maybe because I never had any miraculous stories, only roses printed on shirts, and things like that. And every time that I would get my roses, I couldn't help but wonder if it was just mere coincidence, or I was just noticing roses more because I was praying the novena.

That´s why when I began my rose novena here in Honduras, I was a bit skeptical. Especially because I hadn't seen a single rose since the day I stepped foot in Honduras. They just aren't common here at all. However, I had a feeling one day that I should start it, so I did. Admittingly somewhat half-heartedly each day.

On the fifth day, I got my rose. I had gone to a youth group that is held in the church every Saturday. The only reason I remembered to go, is because I was hanging out outside of a family´s house on the street, when some of the kids passed by going to the group. I still wasn't going to go, as I was caught up in conversation with the girl who lived in the house, but one of the kids looked up at me as she passed, and asked me if I was going. I felt bad, especially since I had talked to them about going earlier. So I went, and sat through a rather disappointing meeting, where they just sat around talking about how frustrated they were that no one ever came to the meetings. No praying was done, no songs were sang, no inspirational talks were given. Nothing. As I got up to leave, I noticed a few older women enter the church and go to the front and sit down, as if they were waiting for something to start. I asked one of the kids, and she told me they were praying a rosary. Intrigued, I walked towards the front, and sat down and began praying with them.

It wasn't until we were about half way through the rosary, when I finally noticed a large vase placed at the foot of the statue we were facing. In the vase were 8 beautiful roses staring right at me. 2 red, and 6 pink. My eyes quickly filled with tears, as I remembered that it was the last day of my rose novena. I had no idea where they came from, or why they were there, but I knew that in that specific moment, they were just for me.

Gracias a Dios

2007-11-27T12:58:00.000-08:00

There is a department in Honduras called Gracias a Dios. I have always wondered why it was called that. Are there so many great things there that the people who named it just had to thank God for the place? It is actually the least inhabited part of Honduras, but I hear that it is really beautiful, and a great place to go for a hike.

Anyway, my original blog had nothing to do with this place, I was just reminded of it when I named my blog. Really, this is about things I have experienced during my stay here and have laughed at, marveled at, or simply felt God’s grace surrounding me.

1. The shoe shiner, who was given his lunch, a messy tortilla with tons of toppings, in the middle of shining the shoes of my counterpart, most likely his only customer in a while. He didn’t even miss a beat while munching on the tortilla in one hand, while continuing to shine the shoes with the other. He ate it in 15 seconds tops, and continued to do an excellent job shining the shoes after he finished. My counterpart didn’t seem surprised or upset at all that he was dripping food all around her shoes, but miraculously did not get anything on them.

2. The little girl who sat next to me on the bus yesterday, who I did not know at all. But halfway through the bus ride, she laid her sleepy head on my shoulder and quickly fell fast asleep. By the end of the bus ride, she was laying comfortably in my arms, sound asleep. It amazed me that she, and her mother who was standing up in the back, had both entrusted me, a complete stranger, to protect her during the ride.

3. The recent trip I made to the tip of the mountain that I live on. It was quite a hike up to the top, and a little dangerous. But the view from the top, where I could see El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua all in one view, was absolutely spectacular!

4. The stars here…I have never seen so many in my life!

5. The older Catholic man that I sat next to on the bus the other day. He kept congratulating me for the work that I was doing here, as well telling me ¨God bless you!¨

6. The ride I got from the town priest into the city, in order to get to a Thanksgiving feast put on by other volunteers in the area. It was on the back of a banged up pick-up, and I shared the ride with about 20 other people who had all gone to mass that day, and were hoping for a ride home. Some of them had told me to get in the front, but I kindly declined, not wanting any special attention because I was a gringa. I rode the entire way terrified out of my mind, but also extremely thankful for the ride God had blessed me, and the opportunity to see other volunteers for the first time in 2 months!

7. The man on the bus the other day, who was singing rancho music to himself quite loudly, but no one seemed to notice or care.

8. The note I got on a test turned into me by one of my students, that made me laugh to myself. It said ¨hay loov iu,¨ which, phonetically in Spanish sounds a lot like I love you (it took me a while to figure that out). It gave me a good laugh. Especially since he bombed his English test (not very funny), but somehow had learned how to say I love you in English (quite funny).

9. A recent theological discussion I had with a man who knew his stuff, and definately challenged me. The first one I have had since I got here, and definately the first I have ever had in Spanish!

10. Singing ¨Gangster Paradise¨ with the other volunteers in my area at a Kareoke bar in a nearby town. I don't think anyone in the bar was very amused, because all the other songs being sung were old spanish love songs. But we certainly had a good time!

Gracias a Dios, por estar conmigo siempre

Organic…..what a magical word

2007-11-27T12:48:00.000-08:00

Organic foods are something that have always intrigued me. Each trip I made to the supermarket, or to the local farmer’s market, I would try to find some type of organic product to buy. One, because I knew it was healthier and better for me, but also because I always wanted to support the local farmers and even larger companies that cultivated organic produce.

I realized recently that consuming organic foods is a habit that I share with many people all over the world, in fact. It is becoming more and more popular to buy organic instead of conventional products. Meijer, the primary supermarket in Michigan, recently came out with their own organic products, which I began finding more and more of on the shelves of people’s homes that I visited. The prices were always quite a bit more for organic products, but that never seemed to bother the health-conscious, environmental-conscious consumer.

It is quite a different story in developing countries, however. The cooperative I work with just recently put on an organic fruit fair this last Saturday. It something we had been working on for months, and especially in the last couple of weeks leading up to it. The event was held in order to kick off what would hopefully be the beginning of an organic fruit market held every Saturday in the same place. The event was also an attempt to draw more people to buy organic products, and educate the general population on what is organic (something that hardly anyone in Honduras is educated on, except mostly the producers of organic products themselves).

In many aspects it was a great success. The fruit was all presented neatly and beautifully in small bags, which were then placed in baskets and spread out on tables that had been covered with tablecloths. A big change from the fruits that are sold in other markets, that are usually sold out of huge, dirty baskets placed on the ground where dust, trash and who knows what else can get into them. This is something that drew in a lot of people, and caused almost everyone who passed to buy something, although the price was a little steeper than most other fruits. Also, many larger companies and government organizations came that were invited, which gave a good name to the cooperative, and helped them prove to these big shots that they were capable and willing to work to get ahead and make a difference.

In other aspects, however, I was slightly disappointed with what seems to me to be almost a hopeless situation. We had spent the entire previous week putting out announcements in the radio, television and making fliers to stick in the papers. They all invited the general public of the city to the organic fruit fair, even telling them a little what organic fruit is. However, I can almost without a doubt say that absolutely nobody who read or heard any of our promotions were intrigued enough to come that day. Of all the buyers we had that day, I never once heard someone say ¨I heard the announcement on the radio, and couldn’t wait to come!¨ Why? Because most of the people here don’t seem to care in the least what is organic, or whether it is good for the environment, or even their health. They only care about what is cheaper. This is something that could take years and years to get into the heads of consumers, that consuming organic products is better for you and the world in general. However, it is also something that I think the general public in the United States has only recently caught on to. Therefore, I think we’re doing pretty darn well, considering.

Unwanted attention

2007-11-09T08:46:00.000-08:00

This was the subject of many workshops during training. I always giggled to myself a little at how much energy they were putting forth just to prepare us for this unwanted attention. ¨How difficult can it be do deal with?¨ I kept thinking to myself. The answer came as sort of a shock to me within the first week I arrived to my town……very, very difficult. Almost so overwhelming sometimes, I just want to scream obscenities at the people around me. At first, it was just little kids who would just sit and stare at me without shame until I’d either shout ¨hola¨ at them, which would usually do the job of scaring them away, or run off in the other direction until they were out of site. Then, I began to notice the penetrating stares of all the young men in the town, who are apparently fascinated by my ¨pale¨ skin and ¨green¨ eyes (yes, my eyes have officially changed color). This includes some of the boys that I taught as well, which made it awkward and humorous at the same time. Awkward because they would shamelessly stare at me while I was teaching class, and sometimes even comment, and humorous because I still can’t believe how attractive I am to them. Also, once and a while I would meet random people in the street who would ask if I could take them with me back to the states, or ask about my jacket (which only cost $1 at a garage sale, but they would never believe that in a million years). Each of these things in and of themselves is not so bad. But having to deal with everything all at once, every single day can certainly get straining.

Therefore, I have come up with my own mechanisms to combat this unwanted attention, and think I have done a pretty good job thus far. The kids are the easiest to deal with. I remember one instance when I was out in the middle of the street, making a phone call to my sister (my phone only gets signal in the middle of the street, so that, unfortunately, is where I have most of my deep conversations with family back home). While I was calling, a group of kids passed me, and as is my normal custom, I smiled and said hello, and quickly turned the other way, hoping to catch a better signal. As I turned my head again to see how far the kids had gotten, I saw that they had sat down on the side of the street about 3 yards away, and were just staring at me. I realized quickly that they had wanted to hear me speak English. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a hold of Sarah, because if I had, I would have given one of them the phone and had them talk to her. Instead, after I got off the phone, I walked over to them and asked them their names, and what they were doing there. Of course, none of them wanted to answer me, because they were too ashamed to say they were listening to me. But I finally got them to talk, and also asked them if they wanted to learn a little English. So I sat there in the middle of the street, and gave these 4 or 5 kids a little English lesson. I am pretty sure they all forgot everything I taught them, but I do remember their faces, and say hi to them every time I pass them. I also speak the phrases I taught to them, but they never answer back. Perhaps some day…..

I haven’t met many people in the streets who ask to go with me to the states, but to the ones I do meet, and know that the only way they could go is illegally, I tell them that they don’t want to go. In reality, I try to help them understand a little that although they don’t have much here, their lives would be so much more complicated and devastating if they went to the states. I also try to help them to realize that the beautiful nature they live in is something that so many people can only dream of living in. I usually tell them that in the states, there aren’t any trees, and it’s really ugly and there’s lots of pollution (because although there are obviously pretty parts of the states, they most likely would be going to the city). And I always, always tell them that I love living here. Which is really the truth, and usually surprises them.

As for the men, I still haven’t figured out how to deal with them. I mostly ignore them, which has worked for me more or less. When I pass them in the street, I never fail to say hi, but usually in a strong, loud voice that infers that I have no intention of talking to them any further. Unfortunately, this doesn’t always work, as the smart asses like to say things back to me sometimes. But this tactic has more or less kept me out of trouble. I even did a pretty good job when I went to the town dance. I did just as I was told, and danced with as many men as possible so as not to show that I favored any certain man (because if I did, he would quickly become my ¨boyfriend,¨ or worse, the man I am ¨sleeping with¨). It was fun, after I got used to all the stares coming from all sides of the dance floor (I felt almost how a famous actress would feel in a bar in Tulsa…). So continues my life in a small town. I have told some people that I should enjoy it while it lasts, because I’m sure when I go back to the states, and don’t get stared at everywhere I go, a part of me will miss all this attention!

English classes

2007-11-09T08:41:00.000-08:00

I have been teaching English to 9th graders here. Because it is so hard to get middle schools up and functioning (although this is one of the projects I’m working on, to get one in my town) out in the small towns in the mountains, the Honduran government started a program a few years back called ¨Maestro en Casa,¨ meaning in-home teacher. Ideally, the students go to class for 4 hours every Saturday, and during the week, listen to the radio for the rest of their classes. However, that is not how it usually works, especially because every teacher has a different pace, and is almost never in sync with what they are teaching on the radio. Each month is also split up by subject, so one month they will be taught math the entire time. The next month science, the next English and so on. The thing that makes this program function so easily is that the teachers are all volunteers, because they only come on Saturdays. Therefore, the government doesn’t really have to pay much for the program, and the teachers don’t have to come every day (usually teachers live in the city and walk into town every day to teach), which are usually the problems that arise with putting a school in such small towns.

So right when I got into my town, I had to finish up teaching the ninth graders, who had previously been taught by the volunteer before me. He had asked to extend a month so he could finish up teaching the class, but was rejected (no comment will be made on this subject…). So, luckily I was ready and willing to jump in and take his place for the month of October. Also, lucky for me, the subject of the month was English. How easy! Or so I thought.

After reading over the text for the first time, I quickly realized that I did not know any of the verb forms or rules of English. I only speak the language, I don’t study it! It was actually quite a bit harder than I had thought, and it took me a couple times teaching it before I really caught on. To think, if it took me that long, one who speaks the language fluently, I can’t imagine how hard it was for my students!

I also originally wanted to start teaching the class primarily in English, so they could at least begin to listen and understand the language better. But for the first class, I just got flustered and completely forgot to speak mostly English, and went for Spanish (odd, since one would think being nervous I would choose my native language). I also had originally hoped that the class would participate more, but the minute I called on someone to answer a question, they froze and refused to say a word. They were terrified to speak the language. At first I was a little frustrated by this fact, but then I quickly remembered the days of my high school Spanish class. My favorite Spanish teacher ever had also asked us at the beginning to speak Spanish in front of the whole class, and I remember being terrified. I resorted to staying silent for most of the class. Although she had good intentions, it simply didn’t work for many of us. Remembering that, I decided to give up my dreams of making them fluent in a month, and stuck to lecturing them in my broken Spanish and asking them to repeat the verbs all together (at least I got some participation in there).

I was excited by how well they were doing on their quizzes, and thought they were actually learning something….until the time came for the test. About a third failed, and of those who didn’t perhaps only 3 or 4 got A’s. I was devastated. I had wanted to at least help them to understand the language a little better, or get them excited about learning it. And they had learned some things. But I think mainly when it came time to put all the verb forms that we had learned together, they just got confused. I realized also that some just didn’t care. And those who did care, only cared about passing because that’s all you really need in the public schools here. Grades don’t really matter.

I wish I could say I made a difference in these kids lives, and made some of them excited to learn English, and helped them to realize how much knowing another language can help you get ahead. But sadly, I believe I did none of that. Obviously this is not a story of failure. It’s reality, that’s all. And definitely a learning experience. I really enjoyed teaching, and hope to teach English to all the grades next year. Hopefully, I’ll do better than I did this time.

Mi familia

2007-10-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

During the times that I have felt lonely and bored here, I have thought about my family more than anything, and how much each one of them means to me. I recently made a comparison between me and my younger sister, Sarah, using the example of how each one of us acts upon our arrival home for the holidays. I realized the other day that this example works well with all of us Noble kids.

Theresa: When she comes home, she demands that everyone be at the airport, waiting for her arrival. And when one of us doesn´t show up, she bothers them until they feel extremely guilty for not being there.

David: Asks that as few people be there as possible, so as to draw as little attention to himself as possible. But he would be a little upset if nobody showed up.

Me: I never say a word, secretly hoping everyone shows up with balloons and flowers.

Sarah: Also hopes that everyone shows up with balloons and flowers, but makes sure that everyone knows it, and even tells them where they could go and buy the flowers.

Mary: Acts like she doesn´t really care if anyone shows up, but secretly hopes everyone does.

And that is my family in a nut shell. And boy do I miss them! I just wanted to let you all know how much I love you, and that I´ve been reading all of your blogs, which have made me cry, laugh, and miss you even more! I love you guys!

Dinah

2007-10-23T11:38:00.000-07:00

I have a friend here named Dinah. She works for the family I live with. Some may call her a maid, but I don´t really like that term. Besides that, she does so much more than clean and cook. She also helps with the animals, and with the coffee during the harvest season (which is right now).

When we first met, I don´t think it was a very friendly interaction between the two of us. I wondered who she was, and what she was doing there, and she probably wondered the same thing. I found out eventually, that she lives in the house with the family, and goes once a week back to visit her family. Over time, especially when the family has gone away for the day, and just the two of us were left in the house, we got a chance to get to know each other.

One of our first conversations was pretty eye-opening for me. As we both talked about our backgrounds and our families, I realized how different we were. There were so many things that we may just never understand about each other, or the other´s culture. I remember one moment in particular, when I was showing her pictures that I had on my digital camera of friends back home and family. As she saw me take the camera out, I saw her look at it longingly and curiously. I immediately regretted the decision, not wanting to flash around what I had in front of her, knowing she may never be able to have something like that. I left this conversation very depressed, longing for my friends back home, and wishing I had something in common with this girl.

But as time has passed, I have been able to find out what we do have in common. We both like to dance, we both like to watch soccer, we both love watching the telenovela Zorro (yes, I finally gave in.....what else could I do??), and we both have sworn of boys for the time being, especially the ones who storm through our town, hooting and hollering when we walk by. I remember one night in particular, that changed my outlook on our friendship completely. We were both watching the Brazil vs. Ecuador soccer game. At one point, one of the players on the Brazil team scored a goal, and the announcers kept repeating his name over and over again ¨Kaká! Kaká!¨ I laughed to myself the first time I heard the name, as it sounds strikingly similar to the word ¨caca,¨ which means ¨poop¨in Spanish. I immediately stopped, reprimanding myself for my juvenile sense of humor. But after the fifth or sixth time his name was announced, I couldn´t help but say his name out loud, letting out a quiet giggle. Dinah looked over at me and smiled, as if she had been thinking the same thing, and said his name aloud too, but this time with the accent on the first syllable, so it sounded like the word ¨caca.¨ Pretty soon, we were both doubled over laughing, shouting his name in between shrieks of laughter. It was in that moment that I realized our backgrounds didn´t matter. We had both forgotten completely about the differences that separated us, and just kept laughing at the poor guy with an unfortunate last name.

I´d like a tall Skinny Latte, with a pump of Amaretto....

2007-10-16T08:52:00.000-07:00

Back in the States, I was known to frequent coffee shops on a regular basis. I also woke up every morning, yearing for that morning cup of coffee that I just couldn´t live without.

That´s right, I was a coffee fanatic. Sometimes I would cringe at the thought of how much of my monthly paycheck was dedicated to coffee. So when I found out I was being sent to a small town up in the mountains of Honduras to work with coffee, naturally, I was ecstatic.

The coffee cooperative I am working with started in 2004. It was then that they began soliciting for an organic certification, which they obtained right away, seeing as they had been using organic farming practices all along. In 2005, they got a Peace Corps volunteer, the guy right before me, who helped them a lot with training other farmers in certification, and soliciting funds from banks and nearby NGOs, among other things. They are just beginning to have success with exporting their coffee, and are slowly growing into a stable, sustainable business. However, there are still quite a few kinks that need to be worked out, namely being the fact that absolutely no one has any sort of computer skills. Therefre, I have lately been acting as their secretary. It is not my preferred job, but works for the time being, while I settle in and get my bearings straight.

It has been quite an experience so far, working for the cooperative. Each officer of the cooperative has his or her given job, and they all do it well and efficiently (as far as I can see right now). Each one is also very involved in the community, and not only concerned for the well-being of their family and farms, but for the town as a whole as well. They are also all bright, motivated, and open to new ideas. For that I feel blessed. However, sometimes I wonder why they need me.....In reality, these people are extremely capable of continuing on their own, and doing good work. I know that I was sent here for a reason, though, and I am determined to find that out with time....(or as soon as possible)

Stream of Consciousness

2007-10-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

Since I’ve had more time to think these past couple of weeks than I have had in the past 5 years combined, I thought it would be interesting to show what exactly goes through my head on a daily basis, however, slightly exaggerated.

as I’m opening my eyes in the morning: Holy crap! Where the hell am I??? Oh, yeah. I’m a Peace Corps volunteer in Honduras, and I’ll be living here for the next 2 years. How could I possibly forget?.....man, am I glad I get all this time to myself in the morning, to just read, do yoga, or whatever I feel like before I wander around looking for work! What a life, man-----15 minutes later-----Gosh, I’m so friggin´bored! And lonely. I wish I at least had a friend here that I could share my thoughts and feelings with….IN ENGLISH! Too bad my family is hundreds of miles away, and I only get cell phone service in one place in the middle of the street, where everyone can see me. I wish I could just call them right now in the privacy of my own room, and cry. I really feel like crying right now……I can’t believe I am going to be here for a whole two years! That reminds me, times a-wastin´! I’d better go.

in the street: Wow, what a lovely day! It is really absolutely beautiful here! I couldn’t have asked for a prettier site, with friendlier people! Look, here comes someone right now. ¨Hola, como esta?¨ Oh, gosh, here it comes. Why do they keep talking to me about the guy before me? Geeze, will you give it up? I don’t think I could ever live up to this guy! He did soooo much, and I know absolutely nothing. Oh, I’m a failure. That’s right. I suck. Why did I think I could ever do the Peace Corps anyway?? I wonder if they’d notice if I just left right now for the states…..wow, I can’t believe I remembered her name! She’s so nice! Honestly, I think I’ve done pretty well for myself in the first couple of weeks, getting to know people and making myself known! It’s incredible, really. I’m amazing. I’m going to do such a great job here, I can’t wait to get started! oh crap, here comes my counterpart……

Talking to my counterpart: Man, this dude talks fast. It’s been more than a week, and I still only understand half the words that come out of his mouth. Should I tell him to stop and repeat himself, or at least slow down? No, then he’ll just wonder why I never did that before. I’ll just keep asking a bunch of dumb questions….wait, he stopped talking. Quick, think of a question to make him think I was paying attention! (to my counterpart) ¨So, do you export all of the coffee you grow?¨ Oh, great. I’m pretty sure I’ve asked that question at least four times, and it had nothing to do with what he was talking to me about….well, he’s answering it, anyway. I wonder if he remembers answering it before….probably does. He probably thinks I’m just a dumb gringa, and that I’ll never help him do anything. This is great. I haven’t done a damn thing so far, and my counterpart thinks I’m useless. This could be the longest two years of my life…..

back at my house, at the end of the day: Man, this food is delicious. Really, I think I could eat beans and tortillas every day for every meal. Especially the way she cooks it, it´s great! I really like it here! The people especially are so laid back and down to earth ….oh, gosh. Telenovelas again? Can I not just find one women in this entire country who isn’t infatuated with this crap? Seriously, man. I wonder if I just slip out, they’ll notice. No, I have to sit here at least 20 more minutes with them, or else they’ll think I’m that strange and unsocial, and that I don’t want to spend time with them. But it’s not like they’re doing anything besides just watching TV…..just 15 more minutes, Liz….1 hour later….okay, it’s over. Now I really can go. ¨Buenas Noches!¨ Man, that took away from a good hour of my reading time! Oh, well. I at least have a couple of hours left before I should really go to bed…..20 minutes later, laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling….welp, done with that book. I guess I’ll go to bed, even though it’s only 8:00……nothing else to do….how much more of this can I really take?? 2 weeks down, 102 more to go……..

It's official!

2007-09-28T11:32:00.000-07:00

Well, we were sworn in yesterday officially as volunteers. We all got up early in the morning, and got dressed in fancy dresses and suits and ties, and went to the US Embassy for a swearing in ceremony.

The ceremony reminded me a little bit of college graduation. There were various speakers, and each volunteer got a chance to introduce themselves, and say what project they were working with. The speeches were actually very inspiring. They weren't the cheesy college graduation speeches you get that seem to repeat the same idea over and over again "go out and change the world!" "You are all going to inspire the people you are around!" I guess those speeches were always just hard for me to swallow one after another, especially when I knew in my mind that most of these people didn't even really have any idea what their next step in life was, let alone were beginning to have ideas about changing the world. I suppose that is one of the reasons these speeches were so inspiring this time around. Because we really are getting ready to go out and change the world, but with a realistic attitude that the changes might not be so big.

The ceremony was followed by a delicious lunch, and an afternoon at the mansion of the Ambassador. His mansion consisted of a pool, tennis courts, a volleyball court and basketball court. So we definatly took advantage of the time, and had a great afternoon as new volunteers! Today, I am taking advantage of the fact that I'm a vounteer and sitting in their computer lounge at the Peace Corps office, using free internet (something we weren't able to do as trainees). I have been spending the day getting small errands done, and I am off tomorrow! I will probably not be able to get to the internet for a while, so if you don't hear from me, that would be why. So long friends, and I will talk to you the next time I emerge from my mountain......

My life is like a roller coaster baby, baby

2007-09-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

This weekend was the first time I got to visit my site, my home for the next two years. While traveling to my site, I was sitting on the bus waiting for the last leg of the trip to start, when my cell phone rang. It was Gabe, the guy who had volunteered in my site before me. ¨congratulations on getting the awesomest site in Honduras!¨ he sang into the phone. I hestatingly said thank you, finding that hard to believe as I sat in the blistering heat, sweating from places on my body I didn't even know I could sweat from, waiting for the damn bus to start.

After I got into the site, although it was absolutely beautiful and even a little cooler than it had been at the foot of the mountain, it did not seem to get much better. My host family consisted of just an older couple who didn´t even know I was coming that weekend, and seemed almost annoyed that I was there. I also got a fairly large room to myself, but such little furniture and bed, that they fit in one small corner of my room, while the rest looked eerily like a warehouse. The next day, after going around and meeting all the people I was supposed to meet in the town, I reached my house at noon. The day of introductions was supposed to last the entire day, but somehow got cut short to one hour. So, when I reached my house, I found myself bored out of my mind. After eating lunch and having only so much to say to my host family that apparently didn´t even want me there, I went back to my room and read until I got bored with that, and proceded to sit on my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering if this is what the next two years of my life would be like.

The next day was the complete opposite. It was filled with adventure and unexpected encounters. I went first to the class Gabe taught, to meet the students I will be teaching english to every Saturday for the next month. I introduced myself in front of the class, and sat down quickly to hear him teach. His Spanish was, of course, absolutely perfect and slightly intimidating. But besides that fact, I realized that it wouldn´t be so hard for me to do. I actually got excited about what I would teach my class, and how I would be as a teacher. I have never even thought of the profession, mainly because I have always known I cannot explain things worth crap, but more importantly I don´t have any patience (which I assume is important for a teacher). But either way, I got very excited thinking about the possibilities of teaching.

The thing that made me the most excited though, was the Catholic youth group that I joined very briefly. This youth group was meeting in the school, just two doors down from where the students were having class. So I just basically fell upon them unexpectedly. Very excited, and not really knowing what I was doing, I just entered the room and sat down in the circle, and listened as the girl talked about different kinds of leaders, which ones are good and which ones are bad. She didn´t even really say anything inspiring, and I didn´t even talk to one person there because I had to leave early, but I for the first time since I had been in Honduras, felt at home. I realized also the beauty of being Catholic. That anywhere you go in the world, you can always find someone who you know who shares the same beliefs as you, and celebrates the same Mass with you each Sunday (or once a month, as the people do in this town).

The last part of my day was also wonderful. I met for the first time the president of the coffee cooperative that I will be working with mostly over the next two years. She is a woman, which is pretty rare here in Honduras to have woman leaders, especially of farming cooperatives. She was extremely inviting and also very excited to welcome me to the team. One of the first things she said to me was how happy she was that I was a woman, because women have much more trust between one another that a man could never share with them. This made me extremely happy, especially considering that my counterpart, the vice-president of the cooperative and a very ¨machista¨ man, definately had not seemed happy that I was a woman. But after talking to her and hearing all about the work I will be doing for the cooperative, I got very excited, especially about their attempt to get the fruit grown in their area (which there is a TON of) certified as organic, so they can sell it as certified organic produce, as well as possibly make it into jams and ship it off to the states.

Well, this is all I have to say about my experience. A roller coaster, basically. And I have a feeling the next two years of my life with follow a strikingly similar pattern......Oh, and as one last note, my host family warmed up to me quickly, after the initial shock of having me show up at their door unexpectedly. I love them, and know we will get along just fine.

Hurricane Felix

2007-09-09T10:02:00.001-07:00

Well, no worries my friends. Hurricane Felix did not get me, or anyone around me for that matter. It was actually quite disappointing. We were all at least expecting heavy rains or at least heavy winds as well, but just got a little drizzle that I'm not even sure was from the hurricane. So no worries, all is well and I have not gotten evacuated to Panama. I guess it is just not the time for that right now :)

So I have been thinking a lot about where they are going to send me. You see, this entire time during my training, my director has been searching out sites, counterparts, and families for each one of us volunteers. I keep wondering where I am going to be put, what kind of people will live in my community, and whether I will be placed by other volunteers that I will like. But as I start to worry about all of that stuff, I just have to take a deep breath and tell myself that everything will be okay. This entire experience thusfar has actually been a great lesson in patience and trust in God. I have really had to trust in the Lord during this time more than I ever have before. I know everyone worries about the towns they are sent to, whether they will like it, and whether they will be able to live in the conditions they are put it.

I definately cannot say that I haven´t fallen subject to the same preocupations. But whenever I am able to catch myself worrying about it, I just give it up to the Lord, and realize that whatever I am given is what He wants for me, therefore it will be the best for me. Take the family that I am living with right now, for example. They are the most amazing, friendly and easy-going people I have met here in Honduras. I know that they are a blessing from God to help me know that He is here with me, and to help me with my Spanish. They are just the people I needed to be placed with to help me with my Spanish especially, because they are very patient helping me learn the language, as well as very easy to talk to. And I was extremely worried at first that I would have a bad family! Well now I know, that the Lord is looking out for me. And even if I run into problems, which I am sure I will, He will help me to get out of them. So I await the announcement of my site with anticipation and excitement. We will find out in one week, and two weeks after that, we all leave for those sites, where we will live for the next two years of our lives. It is a scarey thought sometimes, but I know it is God´s will for me.

hermanas siempre

2007-08-24T16:33:00.000-07:00

My little sister came to visit me this week! It was absolutely wonderful. When her taxi pulled up to the immigration building where I was waiting for her, I saw her immediately. Without even thinking about what would be my next move, I dropped all my stuff and ran towards her, throwing my arms around her into the first real hug I have had since being in Honduras.

The experience I had while she was here was kind of unreal. Having such a close family member here to share my experience with was really nice, but at the same time it felt strange, as if my two worlds were colliding. We were talking one night, and she told me that she understood how much trouble I was going through at the time, trying to integrate into a new group of gringo friends, trying to integrate into my family and community, and trying to learn Spanish all at the same time! That was extremely valuable, being able to have such a close family member there, actually seeing what I was going through and really being able to understand my problems. She gave me very good sisterly advice, and we had a lot of good laughs. But the best thing about having her there, was that I was able to be totally myself and completely goofy without having to worry about anything. I have not felt that exhilaration in a long time, and it was really nice to be able to share it with my sissy!

While Sarah was here, she of course made a wonderful impression on my family! They were excited that her Spanish was so good, so we could have conversations all together with ease. They also just loved her, because who doesn’t? The last night she was here, she made a pizza and apple pie for my family, because they wanted to try some comida from the states. It was a ton of fun to make, and actually turned out wonderfully! My mother here loved having her so much, that she actually cried when she left! Of course I cried to a little, and although I was sad to see her go, I am so happy for the precious time we got to spend together. It was just what I needed, and more!

Longest week ever...and one of the best!

2007-08-17T17:19:00.000-07:00

This past week has been the longest few days that I have spent here in Honduras. Not because I have had a bad time, but my little sister is coming to visit tomorrow! I have been anticipating her arrival with every free thought I have had this week. Although I’ve been outside of the country and away from my family for only one month, it has felt like years. And with the thought of having two long years looming ahead of me, it has already been one of the longest months of my life. This is why when I see my sister this weekend, I will be more excited than I have ever been to see any member of my family.

One of my friends from Aquinas came to visit this Wednesday and Thursday. I thought it was pretty funny that he came right around the same time as my sister. Now all the other people in my training group think I’m extremely popular. My social life apparently `makes their heads spin` as one of my fellow trainees put it. I don’t mind having that reputation (that is a hint for any of you thinking of coming to visit me!). I had a really good time with him. He spent the night with my family, who took him in as if he were one of their own. My family here, like I have been saying, is superior. He is applying to go to the Peace Corps next year, so I enjoyed showing him the ropes and what living the Peace Corps life is REALLY like!

I was especially excited that he got to stay and experience the festivities of `culture day` that went on yesterday, which was one of the most fun days I have had so far here in Honduras. We started the day by getting up early in the morning, and each making a cultural dish with the families we lived with. I made a dish called `pan de pan,` which is kind of like bread pudding, and so delicious! When we got to the event, we started off by watching a cultural dance that some of the kinds from the middle school had prepared for us, which was really cool to watch! Then, some of our host mothers, including mine, got up and sang a Honduran song. After that, each Spanish class in our group presented a little diddy. My class played pin the tail on the donkey with everyone, which most people got a kick out of. I also danced a swing dance number with one of the guys in our group who is a great swing dancer. Everyone loved that, and I absolutely loved doing it! Now I have quite the reputation here of a ballerina, and I definately don't mind!

Although this week has been extremely long, it has also been exciting and eventful. I cannot wait for my sister to come though, so if you read this before tomorrow, pray that I am able to sleep!

A kiss from a gringa

2007-08-12T14:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went with my family for the entire day to the neighboring town, where they were kicking off their week-long ¨ferria,¨ which is like a town fair. My mother is a hair stylist, so she had to be there early in the morning doing people’s hair starting at 10 in the morning. The festivities didn’t start until 4 o’clock, so I spent about half the day just hanging around, watching my host mother at work.

While I was waiting, I got my first ride on a honduran horse, which was especially exciting for me. I love to ride horses, although I have not had much experience with them. Soon enough, the festivities began with a parade that started at one end of the town, and went from there to the other side and back. The ¨parade¨ just consisted of two floats on which rode the recently crowned queens of the town, and a couple of girls riding horses, and half of the town following on foot. I walked with them for a while with the sun beating down on me, but gave about half way and turned around.

One of the most exciting events of the day was a contest, where rope was strung up high between two poles that ran across the main road of the town. On the rope, they put about 25 or 30 pieces of cloth with numbers written on them, and then gave the different girls in the town sashes with the same numbers on them. The goal of the game was for the men in the town to mount their horses, run towards the rope, and try to spear one of the numbers strung on there. Whichever number they speared, the girl wearing that number had to go up to him, give him her sash and kiss him! Of course, they gave me a sash also! The man who got the most numbers, got to enter the dance that night for free, and all the girls who had given him her sash, had to dance with him! It was very entertaining to watch, and so was I, apparantly. When my number was called, the entire time I was walking over to the guy, the crown was cheering like crazy. And the boy looked pretty pleased to get a kiss from a gringa! I’m glad I could make his day J

That night, the dance was supposed to start at 8 o´clock, but it was raining, and all the electricity went out at around 6, and didn’t come back on till around 8:30. Despite the delay, the whole town was still extremely excited, and the dance floor was filled by 11 that night, and apparently didn’t empty out until 4 in the morning! I only stayed for about two hours, dancing with the only other volunteer who decided to be nice enough to come and accompany me. We originally planning to branch out, and dance among the Hondurans, but after dancing the first couple of songs together, we realized we did not wish to dance like they were, which was mostly just close, uncomfortable, dirty dancing. So we proceded to do twists and turns, and dance like total gringos (aka-complete fools) the entire time, which caused us to be the most watched people on the dance floor (as if we weren’t already). I don’t think I have gotten more attention in all my life combined, as I did in those two hours of dancing. Every time I looked around, I saw eyes on us, often looking with confusion and disdain at us. It was the first time I got a real taste of what it will be like once I go to my town. I am a little anxious about that, but besides that, the day was a wonderful experience for me.

ch-ch-ch-changes

2007-08-09T17:08:00.001-07:00

Changes are a good thing. I have had to keep telling myself that with every change that has come up in the last couple of months. Obviously leaving the states and coming down here was the greatest change I had to undergo, but I lived through that and, i think, transitioned with ease. Yesterday, I left what I had called home for the last month, and the wonderful family I had gotten to know, and moved to a much smaller, rural site.

I was very nervous at first. I had absolutely loved my family in the last city I was in, and the mother was an especially good cook. I was also just starting to get comfortable with all the other volunteers, and even enjoying my spanish classes! But against my wishes, and most of the other volunteers, we had to pack up only after a few short weeks and split up into our 3 separate project areas (youth development, municipal development, and protected areas management) and go to separate towns for more project-specific training.

When I arrived in the town yesterday, I quickly realized that my nervousness was unnecessary. Although the town was more rural, and my famiy had never taken in an American into their house before, I was welcomed with open arms as their own `hija` as they told me. This family has two boys, one 12 and one 13. They both speak a little English, and enjoy practicing with me. There are also 5 other volunteers in the small town with me (the other half of the people in our project area were placed in a neighboring town). For lunch, all of the families of the town had a huge welcoming lunch for us all, which was delicious and so wonderful for all of us. We felt very welcomed and appreciated because of that!

That evening, we all wandered around the town, and came across the soccer field, which of course, was the center of all activity in the town that night. There was actually a game of volleyball going on when we arrived, which me and another volunteer quickly ran to participate in. We lost our first game, but won the second one! We were a team of girls against boys, and I think the boys were especially upset after we beat them. All the games of volleyball ended right after we beat the boys, and I still wonder if it was a coincidence. After the volleyball game, all of us girls were invited to play a game of soccer against all the younger boys (we of course weren't good enough to play against the men). It was a lot of fun, and we might go with them on Sunday to play in an actual game against another team of girls in a neighboring town!

The first night in my new town was, as you can see, a blast. I love my new town and situation. Although changes can sometimes be hard, they are always a good thing.

Volunteer Visit

2007-08-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

I am sorry it has taken me so long to write another entry. Not having a computer, and having to pay by the hour at the internet cafe makes it a bit difficult.

Well, this past weekend I went to visit a current volunteer to learn about the real Peace Corps life, and although I had a couple close encounters, I am glad to say I got back alive and in one piece. In order to get there, I was supposed to take a bus from a certain station in Tegucigulpa, but I ended up going to the wrong station, although it took me to the same place. When I figured out I had gone to the wrong station (after I had gotten on the bus), I promptly began to freak myself out, thinking I was going to the wrong city, and possibly there was another city in Honduras with the same name (this in fact happens a lot). Luckily, I had just gotten a cell phone the day before, so I called the volunteer who I went to visit, and told her my predicament. Fortunately, there was no need for me to freak out, and I realized quickly that I was okay.

When I got to the town, I was quite surprised by the size and cleanliness of the town. It was a very nice, clean town with electricity and indoor plumbing in all the houses! Not something always to be expected when going to a Peace Corps site, especially one in my project area. I found out that my volunteer actually did a lot of the same things most PAMers (that is what we call ourselves in my project area) do, she just has to travel to small towns outside of where she lives each day to do her work.

So I went with her on Friday to a small town where she was doing a latrine project. We had to take a bus about 15 minutes away, and from there it was about an hour and a half hike. This is an easy hike, she told me. Uphill most of the way. On our way up the hill, we were just chatting about peace corps when I heard behind me what actually sounded like a large animal dying. I looked behind me, and to my horror and surprise, saw an enormous bull standing about 10 yards away from us, looking like it could charge at any time. Annie, the volunteer I went to visit, told me to slowly walk away from it, telling me not to make a sound. When the bull was out of sight, she told me that was the angriest she has ever seen a bull in her life (and apparently she has seen a few!) So even though I was scared out of my wits for a short couple of minutes, I knew it would be a good story to tell! And thankfully, on our walk back, we didn't encounter the angry bull again!

When we finally arrived at the town, I got to see first-hand what the townspeople were like, how Annie interacted with them, and how she worked daily on her projects. The townspeople were all extremely friendly, and the counterpart she worked with was an incredibly independent and kind man. I enjoyed seeing how she worked with them, and was able to imagine myself very easily being able to interact with townspeople like that, and working with them as well. The visit was over all a great experience, and although reality hit hard, I appreciate very much everything I learned. I am excited to see how I will adjust to similar conditions once I am in my site!

From hand bags to A-frames

2007-07-30T16:12:00.000-07:00

Today we learned how to build A-frames. It was the first time we actually got to go out and build something, and the first time I used a machete. It was absolutely exhilirating! I kept trying to chop a tree branch with the machete, but was getting nowhere. So one of my fellow volunteers told me just to pretend the branch was someone I really didn't like, and whack it! Another told me ¨just take out all your anger on it!¨ ¨But I don't have any anger!¨I exclaimed. But even so, I seemed to be able to whack harder at the branch when I pretended I did have anger to be released. I loved it, and hope I get the chance to use one every day when I'm at my sight!

These A-frames are used to measure the slope of land, so farmers know how far apart to plant their rows of crops. And between each row, so the land doesn't erode, they have to place either rows of rocks, which is extremely time consuming, or another type of plant. We learn a little bit about something new every day. Just so that they show us everything we could potentially be doing once we get to our sites. Last week, we learned how to make hand bags out of chip bags. A way to get rid of the trash in the towns, and also an income generation project especially for the women. I am excited about what we get to learn next. By the time I get out of the Peace Corps, I'm going to be able to build my own house, grow my own food, and make fire by rubbing two sticks together! But seriously, I really did learn how to make a fire today by rubbing two sticks together. I didn't try it yet, though. That will be saved for only extreme circumstances!

Michael Jackson to the Rescue

2007-07-25T16:14:00.000-07:00

I think my emotions finally came up all at once in one day, when I started feeling sick. I have been absolutely fine up till this point. I have been meeting awesome people, adapting to the food and my surroundings fine, not missing home too much, etc. I thought I was integrating really well.

Then came Monday. I woke up feeling very queasy, and couldn´t concentrate all day. Finally, at the end of the day, I went to one of the staff members and told her how I was feeling. To my dismay, she ended up calling the doctor, who sent me to the hospital right away, just to make sure it wasn't dengue, a deadly disease contracted from mosquitos. I immediately began crying in the middle of the lobby of the Peace Corps office. I didn't want to go to the hospital, it was nothing, I swore to it! But they sent me anyway. The entire time, I still teared up thinking about how I wished I could at least call my mom and tell her what was going on, and how much I missed her. Then I began to think about everything else that I missed from the states, and all the doubts started to come and haunt me.

Tears were about to well up in my eyes once again, when ¨Billy Jean¨ by Michael Jackson came on the radio. I immediately brightened up, thinking of the numerous awesome 80s nights I had spent with my good friends in the States. I started humming to the music, and looked over at the driver, who happened to know the song too! We laughed, and started talking about how much we loved Micheal Jackson. Who would have known? Michael Jackson would help a peace corps volunteer in need!

What is Development?

2007-07-21T10:15:00.000-07:00

We watched a video this week about development, and the different ways people have tried to help underdeveloped countries, but to no avail. It was very interesting, but even more interesting was a story that one of my fellow PCTs (Peace Corps trainee) shared with the group.

There was a lawer, recently graduated from Harvard law, who went down to Mexico, where he met a fisherman. This fisherman lived a simple life. He would only go out in his boat and fish for about 2 to 3 hours every day for his family, then come home and eat.

The lawyer told him 'sir, do you realize that if you improved this boat, and went out farther into the sea, you could catch more fish, and make more money?'

the fisherman asked, 'then what?'

'Well, you could start to sell the fish in the nearest town, and make even more profit, and maybe begin your own fishery.'

the fisherman's eyes began to widen with curiosity 'then what?'

'Well, you could then move your fishery to LA, and make even more money, and export the fish all over the country.'

Still curious as to how it would help him, the fisherman asked 'then what?'

Excited by his curiosity, the lawyer told him 'well, I suppose you would eventually have to move to New York City and start buying and selling stock on Wallstreet.'

'then what?' The fisherman asked

'Then you could retire with your family, and move to a small town in Mexico and go fishing 2 or 3 hours a day!'

This story really opened my eyes to exactly how much development we want to be doing in the towns we are placed. Some define development as the 'improvement of quality of life.' Well, who defines the quality of life? I think the Peace Corps has the right idea, of sending one or two people into a town at a time, living among them, and then finding out what they need to improve based on the desires of the townspeople. But there is a very fine line, I think. And it can be easy to cross. They keep emphasizing that we can't just go into our town with some huge plan of saving the world, and making all these great big changes, because we don't even know what they want. Sometimes, you don't even see the impact you made when you leave, it could even take years after that for something to happen. It is one of the most important things I need to remember.

Living the simple life

2007-07-17T16:57:00.000-07:00

I was talking to one of my fellow volunteers the other day about how simply they live here. The host families we are living with right now are actually pretty well off compared to how we will be living in a few months. Even so, they are very conscious about the amount of electricity they use, because it is very expensive. They also have to conserve their water, so I have to take bucket baths, and even when they wash their dishes, they use barely any water.

I know when I was in Costa Rica, I didn´t really experience anything like this, because the people I lived with were even better off than I am in the States. But when I was in Guatemala, the town me and my older sister stayed in was very small, and the water was only turned on for an hour three times each week, because it was so scarce. For some reason, it hasn´t really hit me until I got here how much energy we use on a daily basis and don´t even stop to think about it. I know that we hear constantly how much more energy people from the States us than the rest of the world. But it doesn´t really become reality until you actually experience how other people live, and how it is such a different mind-set than you´ve ever experienced.

Before I came here, I read a few times that one of the hardest things for volunteers is coming back to the States. I am beginning to understand more why that is.

my first entry

2007-07-14T13:59:00.000-07:00

I tried one other time to post an entry and it didn't seem to work. So here we go, I am trying again.

I have been here in Honduras for three days, and it feels like a million years since I have been at home. Already, I am adapting to the culture very well, and loving everything my host mother cooks for me. Today I had a wonderful creamy soup with carrots and some other foriegn vegetable in it I had never had before. I am hoping that she will teach me how to cook some of these things, because I know that when I'm living on my own, it will be wonderful to be able to cook like that for myself. Some people have asked if I miss American food. Not at all. I think the food here is mostly local and freshly made anyway. I big step up for me, from processed and greasy food I get in the states!

I am very excited to get out and start working on my project, which is called protected areas management. We have already been told that we will have to be extremely creative and resourceful when we are out there, because half of the resources we will need to do our project will not be available. So I am excited to tap into the creative side of my mind. I really do not think that I have or will ever be challenged like this again! It is truly an experience I think every American should go through!