We're home

Alice and I flew in last night on the first flight that left Honduras since Monday. Any other airline and we'd still be sitting in a hotel in Teg. Thanks Continental airlines for getting me home.

We can be contacted through our parents, or email (drew.gillispie@gmail.com).

I plan on wrapping this blog up in some way, so this isn't the last entry you will ever see, but I wanted everyone to know that were home safely.

Thanks,

Drew

English class project completed, memories made

(Some of my III Ciclo comun kids)

About 8 months ago, Drew and I were asked to teach English classes in a nearby pueblo called San Juancito. We had worked at the high school before doing project citizen, and I had always wanted to see if I could teach ESL and saw it as an opportunity to learn, teach the kids about my culture, and have as a major project my last few months.

(The teachers that gave me free rides to class, about a 3o minute drive from my town)

Drew went to DC for knee surgery and I started the classes. Ok, so I had five classes, my biggest class had 52 kids and my smallest about 18. I had some books to use as guides but made my own curriculum, quizzes, homework assignments and tests. At first it was overwhelming but it kept me busy while Drew was gone. When he came back, he helped me make tests, create a system to record the grades, and even came to a few classes. With each month it got easier, though there was one day I walked out of my class of 52 kids and told them I may not come back. I gave them another shot, they calmed down, they are 12-13 but good kids, think 6th grade in the states….. (a few of my 53 kiddos in I Ciclo comun)

This last two months was hard due to the “coup” or golpe de estado, or change of government or whatever you want to call it. We missed about half the classes. So, I just finished up with three of the five classes, all ciclo comun or middle school grades. I wrapped it up with colors, numbers and clothing, fun yet functional things to know. The second to last week we did a cultural day where they had to present on several cultural themes of Honduras, and I did a presentation for them about Oklahoma (and used some of those great postcards people had sent me for my collection!). It was tons of fun and a learning experience for both me and the students.

Today was the last day of classes. It was also dia de la bandera, flag day, so it started off with some presentations by the teachers and students, including hanging the flag, a poem and a rap about Honduras among others.
(Doing a regeatton rap to celebrate Honduran patriotism)

Afterwards, it was time for the final test. Since I feel kids in this country don’t get enough creativity, I drew people in bright clothes and they had to write on their test papers the clothing type and color. I had also made them do homework over the past few weeks including cutting out things in the primary colors and drawing rainbows, as well as silly numbers games such as bingo to put learning back into a fun environment. After the tests, I got pictures taken with most of the kids, got a cake and a song and several hugs. (Taking the final exam, and afterwards, enjoying my goodbye cake!)

It was an amazing, if not exhausting and learning experience. I learned I can teach and manage several youth at once, they learned a bit more of English, a little about US culture, and hopefully I made a positive impression on them. They sure made one on me. So much so, that I convinced the youth development project to place a new volunteer there when I leave….hope they drive them as crazy as they did me, yet also touch their heart.

My favorite class, who I also did Project Citizen with, II Ciclo Comun

June's recycling fair and a few fun pics

I haven't posted any pictures recently, and since we are wrapping up our Peace Corps service soon, I figured I should get to it. The last two years, we have had an anual "Recycling Fair" in our town that Drew andI participated in putting on. This year my mom got to be there for the event, which included several sculptures made with recyclable materials, the motorcycle being our favorite. Anything that promotes environmental awareness in Honduras is a great thing, since the country is plagued by bad habits including throwing trash out of cars and buses, dirtying water supplies, not using trash cans or having trash service, or burning trash containing hazardous materials. I've seen little old ladies to young kids just throw their trash along the road, without a second thought. These fairs have been fun ways to improve "conocimiento" or awareness, use creativity, and get the community talking about how to better take care of our mountain town. Instead of using disposable plates and cups, community groups sold foods such as tamales that didn't need it, or used real cups to serve homemade juices using local fruits. They had music and traditional dancing, and activities for kids and adults alike. Also, local groups sold products made with recycled and natural materials such as the chip bag woven purses, bags made of leftover materials from t-shirt factories, and baskets using pine needles. It was fun to have my mom there to see the event, and see my community promoting such a good cause.

An odd story to happen this close to the end of service.

I helped someone today. It cost me $5. I neither taught a man to fish nor gave him a fish, but rather, I bought him a fishing pole. I suppose the cause was worthy of my $5, but I'm still struck by doing what I did.

I don’t give money nor lend it here. It is a bad policy. One 5-year-old gets a nickel and the following day your front yard looks like recess at the kindergarten. Adults are better, but not always. If someone comes by asking for money, it is usually just the town drunk looking for food or more drink. Sometimes people come by asking for money for food, but rarely appreciate a couple bananas and a best of luck.

A middle aged man came by on a Sunday, probably 40 years old, but looked 60 with front teeth completely MIA. Thus, he was immediately twice as hard to understand as anyone else in the world who has front teeth. Alice is outside with the dog and shouts for me. She informs me there is a man asking for me. This happens occasionally, but not often. She thinks I worked with him. I’m hoping to walk out and find one of the people from my stove community smiling at me so I could invite him in for a coffee and discuss unimportant matters to pass the day.

I don’t recognize the face. This doesn’t mean I don’t know the person. He has the look of a man weathered by 25 years of working in the sun. The skin on his face looks like leather and his eyes droop. He’s wearing a blue checked shirt like a Kansas farmer from the 40’s, and khakis that look ironed, but stained more times than I can immediately count.

He starts talking to me like we’ve known each other for years. I assume he must know me since people from the country here won’t even say hi, let alone will they start a conversation. He’s saying something, but I am missing most of it, partially because I can’t figure out why I know him and I am concentrating on that and partially because the man has no teeth and mumbles. Eventually I give up on trying to figure it out and start listening full time; hoping clues in conversation will give something up.

It’s not long before I figure out what the man wants. He used to have some steady work and the people he worked for would lend him a machete. He’d work for them most of the time, and when he had a day off, he could use the borrowed machete for work. The people recently moved and he’s out of work and he’s out of a machete. He wants me to give him one.

Usually this would have been the end of the conversation, but the community I did stoves with was so nice to me, even though I was doing work for them for free, I still feel like I owe them any help I can offer. I am not going to give money to anyone. If 2 years of my time can’t help, my money can’t either, but he man had me curious and I didn’t want to ask outright why he came to me specifically.

I didn’t know what to do. I was in a situation where under certain conditions I would want to help, while under others, I would tell the man I was sorry, but I couldn’t help. Regardless, I had no idea what to do. I had to up the stakes. I tell him I don’t have any money, but he can pass by my office Wednesday morning and I’d try to work something out for him. I had no idea what the something was going to be.

He thanks me, tells me a little more about himself, and thanks me again. He is from a village, but not the one I thought. He has no idea who I am, he just stumbled upon me. I don’t know why he chose my house, but he did. Luckily I’m already in a position to put off decision making, so I don’t worry too much. He would likely not pass by my office and I would not have to make any further decisions.

I forget about the conversation for the most part. Tuesday night it occurs to me that he may come by, and my plan is to refer him to the microfinance organization in his area, that would lend him enough to buy a machete without much question. The $5 he needs is not a ton of money for them to lend a first time borrower.

Of course I wouldn’t be writing this if he didn’t show up. I try to determine a few things before I carry out my plan. I ask him if knows my name, and he does not. I am not surprised. I figured he didn’t. Now I want to determine that he did not come to my house because I am an American. People who beg from me from for that reason annoy me to no end. They see my skin and assume I am rich. In comparison to most people here, I could be rich, but I put those dreams aside to work here for a few years. He passes that test too. He was asking everyone. He actually passed a test I didn’t know I was giving too. He wasn’t begging for money. He had asked every house up the street from me, but as soon as I told him I would try to work something out for him, he stopped asking. It made me feel better about him. I don’t entirely know why. Perhaps it was just because he didn’t take any pleasure from asking for things, and he didn’t ask any more people than he needed to. He just had a need and as soon as it was filled, he was done with that.

His answers confirmed a variety of assumptions I had made. He was the sole worker from his family, and he had a wife and kids. He’d worked outside his entire life. School and dental care were far from his reach. I couldn’t get a hold of the people from the microfinance organization and at this point I was starting to realize I didn’t want to. I wanted to help him find work.

I don’t know what made me think about it except I was at the office, but a year ago the group I work with planted some trees, and they are responsible for keeping the grass around it trimmed, at least until the trees are established and water competition between the trees and other plants is a non-issue. I ask the person from the office when the last time the grass had been cut. She thinks I am about to complain at her, so she tells me it had been 2 weeks (this means it’s probably been 2 months), but also acknowledges that it needs to be done again. Usually the kids from the high school do it, but with school being so random right now, the kids are hard to locate and usually busy. If we wait for them, it will be another month.

So I decided that while I had no hope of providing permanent employment to the man, I did get a chance to see if he was serious about being willing to work for the machete. I propose to him that I will gladly buy him a new machete and sharpening stone (about $5.50) if he would agree to chop the grass around the trees (using a machete to chop grass is a standard job around here, and the $5.50 is about a normal wage, though that depends on if the person is using a using a borrowed machete (about $3 a day) or has thier own (about $5 a day)). I kinda expected the guy to realize I was not going to give him money, and I was going to give him a crappy job to get his machete, and he would going to groan and say he’d rather just have some money and leave. But I was surprised by him again. He didn’t get upset. He got really excited.

So, I went and bought him a machete and something to sharpen it with, and the lady from the office told him that our group would pay him another $5 when he was done (she heard his story too, and also felt the guy was pretty genuine). She took him to the trees, and he is there chopping grass now.

After reading this over again, the whole story seems like I am a stingy guy working in the wrong field of work, but this is the dilemma of a Peace Corps volunteer. We’re not a funding organization; we don’t have money for projects. We really only offer our knowledge. Every time we consider giving a handout we have to remind ourselves what happens when you give a mouse a cookie. When we do go out of our way to help an individual the whole thing can go one of two ways. We can feel like I did today, like I didn’t do all that much, but rather just put him on the right track, or we can feel taken advantage of. It is a tough call every time. In the long run being ripped off for $5 isn’t awful, but in the short run, it’s my food budget for 2 or 3 meals. I can’t help everyone who needs it, and when I do help someone, the only outcome I want is to feel like it was worth it. In this case the man already knew how to fish, but poverty stole his fishing pole, and I happen to be in a position to replace it. Now he can find work on his own. I wouldn’t be surprised to find him outside my house again, but this time I expect he would offer to cut my lawn for a few bucks.

I admit openly it was a hard decision to make, and I may have made a mistake, but I feel pretty good about things anyways. I’m curious… In my position how would you react? What would you have done? In the end, was giving the machete the right thing to do? Or does the whole moral conundrum make no sense to you?

Interesting last vacation

So Drew and I took our final vacation this weekend. We only went away for four days, off to the north coast to enjoy the beach one last time. We have a volunteer friend there, so we had a place to stay right on the beach for free.

We headed out before 5am and got a lucky taxi ride for just a bit more than the bus with a guy heading into the capital to work. We caught a 5:45am bus and thought luck was with us. The trip went smoothly and we made it near the coast and were only about 3 hrs from our destination, after travelling about 4 hrs. Then. the bus stopped. And stayed stopped. People got off, there was a hot dog cart man, people selling bags of water. We were about a kilometer away from a roadblock protesting the new government. (Below is a pick of one of the roadblocks this weekend, I didn't take it but it illustrates it well) It was hot and sticky, and it was only 11:30. We texted peace corps and let them know where we were and waited it out, hoping it wouldn't last too long. After an hr and a half, i convinced drew to go with me to the hot dog cart, I was starving since we hadn't eaten all day. The dog I received was covered with mustard and ketchup, then fresh cut cabbage, more mustard, ketchup, some white sauce, and parmesan cheese. I skipped on the onions in beet juice and vinager. I added some hot sauce for kicks. It actually tasted really good, which was either my hunger or I am adapting to the strange food combinations....

Soon after we heard the roadblock was to be over about 1pm. It also started to sprinkle which helps. Sure enough, about 1:30 we started moving along again, but in a slower paced line all the way to our final destination. We finally made it to our friend's house around 5:30, about the time we had left that morning and we were famished and worn out. We ate some fish and shrimp, had a beer, and slept quite well.

Next day we got to enjoy the beach alone, though the water was a bit choppy. It was still the ocean and we enjoyed the sunshine and balmy weather. Our host made some amazing food and we enjoyed the evening and relaxed.

Our third day, we were joined by a group of other volunteers also wanting to get out of site and enjoy the beach. We were quickly cramped into a single bed between the two of us, but it wasn't too bad. I started to develop a bad throat cold the night before, but found some medicine. We went out to the beach again but this time I guess I didn't do as well on the sunscreen. I got a bit burned on the shoulders and back, and was feeling dehydrated. We headed back and all cooked up burgers, I made pasta salad, there was gauc and chips and hummus and it felt like hanging out in the states. After dinner though my stomach decided it was revolting against me, my shoulders burned, and my throat had caused me to lose my voice. I was quickly becoming aware that my body was falling apart on me. OH, I forget to mention I was also battling a month-long foot fungal infection (I finally got an appt for that with a specialist after the creams I had gotten from the PC doc's just weren't working). Anyway, I was a bit surprised it was possible to have four different things wrong with you at once, none so serious that you would feel that bad, but all together is overwhelming. I said goodnight to the party and went to bed early.

Our day headed back we got a bit of luck again. The beach loooked beautiful as we headed out, and then when we got to the highway the first bus that passed we could take was a bus directly to Tegus, and it was a relatively new and nice bus at that. We sat back and cruised into Tegus late afternoon. Again hungry, but feeling proud of the good time we made on the road, we treated ourselves to Chili's that's by our bus station home before heading back to site. It was DElicious. I actually was able to finish all my food (my idea of normal food size portions has thankfully shrunk to reasonable in this country, but sometimes American sized is just right). I got home , found my puppy alive and happy to see us, and was in bed by 8:30.

Whew. So, that's been life for us. I tried to work today, but classes were cancelled again, for some unknown I am sure not necessary reason. I have only had class with that school once since the whole political "situation", and they have only been in session a collected wk and a half since that, so I have about given up on them. The other two schools I work with have faired much better and hopefully I will be able to finish my projects with them before we leave. September 25th, it's almost here!!!

Three week staycation!

There is a bit of a crisis going on in the country right now and I still can't really talk about it. Fortunately, I can still explain my work and the like.

Actually, that won’t take much time at all. The crisis hit and I’ve been on staycation. Since the capital is the epicenter of the current goings on (or was until recently) I’ve not really been able to travel anywhere. We have one backdoor route we can take to visit a friend, but what would be an hour drive turns into between 3 and 5 hours depending on how often the bus stops, which is a lot. For July 4th Alice and I ignored this slight inconvenience and made the trip to a barbeque another volunteer had. It was a little weird having a barbeque and not having to cook all the food as I have become quite accustomed to doing, but it was also kinda nice.

Anyways, back to staycation. Alice and I work mostly in schools, and this month school has had 3 official days of class, which sucks for both us and our students. This means any work we had obligated ourselves to is at a standstill, and if we take on new work we risk not being able to finish the new work or the old work. We’re taking advantage of our free time by doing things like making tasty soup, reading, and watching seasons of the office a friend lent to us. Sometimes we go for walks just to go for walks. I like to think this is like a short preview of what retirement is like, except I still have the vision and clarity of mind to really enjoy it.

The good news is that things are getting closer to normal. The three official days were Monday to Wednesday of this week, and some schools went ahead and had class yesterday too, though not all teachers or students showed up.

The best news I have is that my interns showed up. One of the local high schools has a focus on tourism, and since I really wanted to develop a website for my town that would be sustainable, I had classes with 2 students and then as their required internship they are making a webpage. They are getting pretty good at it. Their biggest barrier is the language, since HTML and CSS both rely on an English vocabulary, but they are starting to recognize important words faster and be able to change the properties. So far we have a main page, an example for a restaurant and they are working on an artisan shop. They like to use colors I don’t love, but it will be very eye catching, which is good. Overall, the point is that they understand web design and we get some more publicity for my town, which could really use a few extra tourists right now.

So that’s all I really have to say. I figure I should try to spice this whole thing up with some pictures, but I don’t really have many great new pictures. I am going to search my hard drive now for something interesting.

Okay, I can't get the pictures to upload.... Sorry. Sadly this will be just another boring pictureless blog.

Standfast, bird pics, and random update

We are doing well here in Honduras, and since we are bored and in limbo as we wait to see what will happen over the next few days, I figured I'd post some pictures from our recent activities.

In May we were lucky to have Drew's parents come visit. We took them to Roatan Bay Island, Copan Ruins and our site in a ten-day whirlwind adventure.Here John and I are sailing in a bit of rain after snorkeling on one of the best reef locations in the world.

My favorite activity was while we were in Copan Ruins. We went to a bird park where they rescue tropical birds. The small fee to enter the park helps maintain the park, and they had birds in almost every color. They also have a coffee farm near the park and you can buy fresh beans and enjoy a hot cup of java after the tour. They also let you hold some of the birds and see them up close, and they are quite friendly. One liked me so much it nibbled at my shirt and then poo'd on my shoulder, all while cooing in my ear. My shirt was orange, I guess I looked like tasty fruit.

I couldn't get the pictures to move to correspond with the text, but I know you all can figure it all out. We are currently under a national curfew and not allowed to leave our sites except for emergencies, but we are safe and doing well. Our town is very quiet, schools are out, so we are mostly bored and working on job applications. We've been cooking a lot and trying to hang out with our friends here ,just in case. We are avoiding large crowds, keeping our opinions to ourselves, and hoping that in the next days things get better and life goes back to normal, whatever normal may be! Keep us in your thoughts, and I will try to post some more pretty pictures over the next few days.

Just so you know

Commenting publically on the current situation is something I reasonablely cannot do, but I assure you all Peace Corps is taking good care to assure the safety of all volunteers, and none of us have experienced any danger. We are calmly passing the time in our sites until the situation is resolved. I just wish school wasn't cancelled, since that is interupting my work. These things happen though. Thank you all for your concern.

Drew and Alice

Easter week memories

A picture update since we haven't written in awhile.........

We didn't go anywhere this year for Easter week, but we did get to enjoy some time in the pool with some Honduran friends. The weather was great all week, and we enjoyed just having time off as the country shut down for 5 days.

On Good Friday, I got to see the processions and even sat in the service on Sunday, though it was very crowded and hard to hear. I did get holy water splashed on me , and it was fun to see the cultural traditions that surround this week.

Drew had fun entertaining the neighborhood kids and the dogs, I came home to find a house full of balls, bats, fake swords and more , and a very exhausted bassett and Drew.

These were the processions on Palm Sunday and were very festive.

It's not my fault... I blame technology.

Blogging is far easier in the United States. Okay, not blogging so much as posting blogs. Life here is pretty good and my mood is finally coming back to normal. Being in the States for so long and then coming back was just long enough to hit the cusp of re-entry style culture shock, and then return and get a pretty big hit when I was readjusting to life here. Though for the record, culture shock isn't really a great word. I wasn't really shocked by the United States and nothing in Honduras can really shock me any more. I hope. I think it's more of culture fatigue. I find myself more prone to use the words "good god, not this again" as opposed to "oh my god what was that". You all see the difference, right? 

Easter week, or as Alice calls it, spring break, was last week, and I did as little as possible. School is out and the entire country is on vacation or doesn't leave thier house, so I followed suit and enjoyed a bit of down time with my dog. I didn't work, but I didn't go anywhere either.

Work since I have been back has been half busy. School is back in session which means we're teaching english at 2 schools, and starting in May or so we'll be doing civic ed in 3. We're also going to do some leadership classes and hopefully some "don't do drugs" talks.  

Stoves are on hold, partially becuase I can no longer walk 5 hours a day as was required, but also becuase the materials I waited for 3 months for are still not around. I doubt I will really do much more with this, since I can no longer be a daily part of the project and becuase my counter-parts decided they needed masons to build them, which is stupid and wrong.

Instead of stoves I am teaching web design class to 2 kids who will eventually do a website for my city. My brother told me my cute little mountain town is the 6th largest tourism draw to Honduras. Kinda makes me feel like we need a website, and instead of just talking about it, I actually have kids working on. They are seniors in high school and they are glad to be working with me. We'll see how it goes.

A good friend of mine has a gallery at the nation identity museum. The gallery is based on one series he did, called an Angel with AIDS. I have only seen the guide since the stupid museum was closed on Monday, but I assure you all, I will love it.

To close, I offer the following question: Has the entire US gone insane? I get a very small slice of news here. Pretty much I get yahoo! news and fark.com. If one of those 2 outlets doesn't cover it, I am prone to miss a story. But between myspace, yahoo, facebook, and this blog it seems you've all forgotten that tea bagging is a very dangerous and risky undertaking. (The blog was the only one to even hint at knowing the true dangers of unprotected tea baggery). A friend of my brothers actually broke a water bed trying to tea bag a sleeping friend. I assure you, the secret service will shortly begin looking into all threats to "tea bag" the president. I also heard there were women tea baggers. How is this even possible? I mean, I am all for womens rights, but anatomy is anatomy. 

This update was brought to you by the letter B. Because by myself boredom brings blogs.

Here in Honduras

Well, I'm back. I got in just before noon and the overly concerned medical staff had a driver waiting. Alice practically broke down the barrier to hug me. It was all very nice. I greatly appreciate all of the support offered during my time in the states, but i am back where I belong for the time.

A reserved celebration

I am sitting on the couch I've resided on for nearly a month, waiting for Alice to call, and I thought I should mention to the world my fate seems secure. I should be back in Honduras within a couple weeks. No one has made any promises, but my speedy recovery means I could be back as early as a week from Saturday. As with any medical situation there are conditions and concerns, but the good news is I will be back in Honduras in no time. 

On another note, Thanks to Stephanie for being my first follower. I follow 13 different blogs, and hers was previously left off the list and she was the only one who took the time to "follow my blog". All you lazy folk should do the same. The more people who follow the blog, the less likely I am to ignore it for long periods of time assuming that no one is reading it.

Well, my sister in law is in the shower, and my nephew's butt just made a terrible noise, so I think Uncle Drew has some nasty work to do.  I hope your day is filled with less stink than mine.

E. Hippie

Alice update while Drew is away.....

As you guys know, Drew is in the states recovering from ACL reconstruction surgery. Unfortunately, Peace Corps doesn't pay for spouses to be with their husband or wife unless it is an emergency situation. However I am very greatful for the great medical service they are giving Drew throughout this process. So, what have I been up to these first two weeks he has been gone? I was lucky enough to have my dad come visit!

He came to keep me company for a few days so I didn't have to be alone the whole time Drew is gone. We started off the trip by going to the Harley Davidson shop in the capital, Tegucigalpa. We bought 24 shirts for his harley riders group, from sizes medium to 2xL. Sorry Dad, they don't have 3x or 4x here, people just aren't that big in Honduras! It was fun to pick out all the shirts, and the owner gave us two free as well. Dad presented him with a HOG flag from his Tulsa group and he promised to put it on display.

After that, I introduced him to my eccentric group of Honduran friends and we had a couple of Honduran brews and a typical bean and cheese snack. The next day, the people I work with took us out to eat pupusas, kinda like cheese filled cornmeal pancakes. In the morning I took him to the small poor puebo where I teach my young ladies an alternative ed version of primary, and he got to see some of the work I do.

That evening we ate "plato tipico" and relaxed. Next, I took him to the beautiful Lago Yojoa where we enjoyed the beautiful lake scenery and saw numerous types of birds. We sat on the large patio overlooking the lake and enjoyed food and drinks. Our second day there, we headed off on an adventure. We took the local old school bus to the closest town, where we switched to a nicer, more modern bus to the exit for a nearby waterfall. We took about a 15 minute walk to the village where the waterfall is located. The waterfall itself is quite impressive and we were able to see it from above and below. They have a zipline over the waterfall ,but at about 50 meters down, there was no convincing Dad or I to do it. Plus, you can walk under the waterfall, literally thru the water ,but after seeing how big and strong it was we opted not on that as well. In the states, they'd never let you do either, so at least Honduras offers a bit more adventure for the strong hearted. We headed back via walking and bus to the local town and caught a "tuk tuk" or what we call mototaxis, small 4stroke engine carts that will take you around locally, and headed to another village where they have a brewery owned by an Oregonean ex-pat. The food and brew was fresh and delicious, dad tried the porter and I went with mango. We were able to get a ride afterwards all the way to the hotel with a few other ex-pats that were dining there as well. The next day we headed back to my site in the mountains and relaxed from our trip. The final day we got up early, made coffee and eggs, and took one last walk around my town before heading off to the airport.

It was such a wonderful gift to have him here, have the company, but also show my Dad how I live and work. He was impressed with my pila, aka washing machine, and how in a lot of ways, Honduras isn't too much different than when he was in Central America 20 years ago. But some things have changed too for the better, and the people were just as friendly and welcoming as he remembered them being in the past. He was a great sport, took all types of wonderful Honduran transportation, dealt with the lack of water in the house most of the time, and the slight smell of mold in my house from the continuiosly damp environment. (see below pic, I had scrubbed it off only a month or so ago and it quickly grows back). And, most importantly we had a great time. He found my shower endlessly entertaining, and showed the following picture to the ladies in his office to remind them "they have it good", their response was of course "eewwww". But honestly, my shower is still better than scout camp! :) Especially when we have water and that little device on top makes it nice and steamy. Hey, bathing is a gift I don´t take lightly!

Now, it's back to work and try to keep busy and sane until Drew comes home. Will keep you all updated on how life goes!

Post op

Well, all updates as promised.

I had ACL reconstruction Tuesday and all went well. The surgeon was great, though giving anyone directions while on pain meds is a mistake. I already messed up once and changed the dressing, when I should have just layered more band aids on top. I've had a few instances of pain, but for the most part I'm not doing to bad. Feel free to send well wishes, I'm feeling a bit like a bum, since I am pretty much a resident of my brother's couch.

All shall be well, and I don't question I'll be able to make it back to Honduras within my time limit.

Drew

Stateside

I'm not sure anyone reads this who isn't in my imediate contact loop, and judging from the overwhelming response to my previous 4 posts, I'm guessing no one wanted to read 20 pages of babble. I'll keep it short.

Stoves were still on hold last I checked, but knee surgery is on. I'm in DC for an unspecified time, following Surgery on Tuesday. I'm expeted to do some long hard PT and get back to Honduras just in time (after 45 days of being medically evacuated, Peace Corps is forced to seperate a volunteer).

I'm planning on doing some web design while I'm here, but I seem to be missing all my design files, but I'm going to try anyhow using what I have.

I'll update regularly since I am in the world of technology. Anyone in the Capital should contact me and buy me coffee. I like coffee and it is always nice to see friendly faces.

E. Hippie

Long Overdue Update #4 - Everything else

To be honest there is not too much to put here, especially since if you read the other 3 updates you’ve already read 17 pages worth of my ramblings, but like I said in the beginning, I want these stories to be preserved. On a side note, that is such a great feeling. I never wanted to write about what I was doing when I worked at the pet store or the video store. Now, I want to have the memories in tact as much as possible. It is so nice to really truly enjoy what you are doing.

Alice asked me to include day of the mages. Day of the mages is considered to be the last day of the Christmas season here and falls on January 6th. It commemorates the day Jesus was given the three gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. We had planned on passing new years day with our host family from training, but unfortunately our host dad had to work that day and our plans got moved to the 6th of January, or day or the mages.

Our host family celebrates the holiday every year as the proper day of gift giving, but we didn’t know as such yet. We thought we were invited over for a quiet evening to chat and catch up. We showed up fairly early, since we were cooking. We had told them we would teach them how to cook a turkey (since very few people here have ever had a roasted turkey it almost always goes over well, even if you ruin it). To be nice we also brought stuff to make a salad and mashed potatoes for what we thought was going to be 6 people.

When we got there the first thing we noticed was that the house had an addition. We had stopped by when they started added a second level to the house, but over the last 6 months they had managed to completely finish it. Our host parents moved upstairs and one of our brothers took their old room instead of being in the unattached bedroom outside. The new upstairs had a den for their computer and a deck with a hammock. I laid in the hammock with the most incredible view for two hours until the sun started to set and started hurting my eyes.

Alice had been busy preparing the turkey and informed me the tiny 8 pound turkey was meant to feed 18 people that night. Our salad and potatoes weren’t going to make it either, but our host Mom added some lettuce to the salad and had a few extra potatoes, so in the end we had just enough for everybody to have a small plate and most people really enjoyed all the food. Gravy was hard to make since the drippings contained almost no grease at all. I think our little 8 pound-er was a marathon runner, but no one noticed it wasn’t quite right, since none of them had ever eaten turkey with gravy before.

Before dinner we all crowded in the kitchen for the blessing, and while I always thought the kitchen was small, it only seemed to get smaller as more people crammed in. They wanted the picture to commemorate the event to have the food in it, so they had to pass the camera around the room and take 4 pictures in order to make sure everyone was in at least on of the pictures.

After dinner everyone who got to the house after we did wanted to see the finished addition, so everyone went upstairs. My host brother turned on some music and they had quite the dance party. Everyone made sure the little kids were dancing and then the feeling was contagious. I had to hide downstairs to avoid getting the fever.

The night was a great experience and we met all of our host family’s extended family. They were all nice and accepting and everyone thanked us for cooking repeatedly. At moments like that we feel like we have family here and it makes spending so much time away from out real families far easier.

My Mom and Dad took us on a cruise in January. This sounds like a really good way to go through culture shock, but in the end I never really had a hard time. It was interesting to learn the people who work on the ship actually make more money than I do. It was funny when I ran in to a Honduran from La Cieba. It was strange when my brother took me to the casino and I won what I make in a month. Overall, I think I miss my family more than I really care about culture, since as long as I was around them I never got uncomfortable. Also, the rock boat is awesome. Seeing that much live music made up for the fact I’ve not see anything better than street mariachis in a long time.

I don’t know what is going to happen yet, but my knee is not in good condition. It was diagnosed as having a partial rupture of the ACL and a partial rupture of the meniscus. It sounds like I need surgery, and I may spend some time in the states for that. Peace Corps will allow me to be in the US for up to 45 days for the operation and recovery, but after that I have to go back to country or go back to Tulsa. Most people my age take about 3 or 4 weeks for a decent recovery and then I just can’t play sports for 9 months. I am hoping it all turns out well, but we’ll keep everyone updated. Nothing is for sure yet though; I may just get a new brace that gives me better support and get the surgery in September.

Work is slow currently, since I cleared my schedule to build stoves and now my materials are delayed. I may get the materials the exact same time I go for surgery, so in that case Alice will have to help organize. Poor Alice gets dumped with my work since I am hurt. Wish I could help her out, but there really isn’t much I can do about any of it.

That concludes our little game of catch-up. Including this last one and without pictures, you poor folk have now been subjected to nearly 19 pages of me talking. Now let’s hear from you. Let me know what is going on in your life or at least leave a comment with your thoughts. I assure you will all hear an update about my knee and work as soon as I have one.

Long overdue update #3- Stoves!

Please, continue reading. This subject is almost certainly more interesting than you think. Or not. On second thought, do whatever you want.

A while back my host mom wrote a proposal to build improved stoves in 5 communities vital to water production in our area. Since maintaining the number of trees and reforesting already depleted areas is vital to the continued production of water the point of the project was to reduce the primary reason for cutting trees: firewood. In a community of 50 houses, 45 depend entirely on firewood. Only three don’t use firewood at all, and when the power goes out (and it does, sometimes for long spans of time), they have to depend on neighbors for food.

When she was writing the proposal, she had no idea how to execute the construction and I’d heard of many Peace Corps volunteers leading projects like this and I figured this was a good time to pitch in. If I didn’t lead the project, it easily could have fallen through the cracks. This happens a surprisingly often. A project gets approved, then it never gets done and the money gets returned to the funding organization. I liked the idea of immediately reducing deforestation, improving community health, and reducing pollution.

The benefits of stoves can be exaggerated pretty easily. The materials I have claim 15 benefits, some of which are “it gets really hot”. When condensed into two concepts, however, the benefits couldn’t be any clearer. First, traditional stoves are basically a sheet of metal balanced on a few bricks or cinder blocks and then three walls are built with adobe, and for some reason it is then painted white. I don’t know why yet, but every single traditional wood burning stove is painted white. This is a highly inefficient design. There is no insulation or anything in the design focusing the energy toward the cooking surface. With the addition of a simple firebox people can leave their stove lit all day (to cook beans) and still save 50-60% of their firewood. If they don’t leave it lit all day the savings increase. This immediately saves trees from being cut down, and saves people time or money depending on if they buy or cut firewood. It also reduces the amount of wood each house is burning and the pollution cause by that burning. Second, the traditional stoves almost never have a properly functioning chimney. Some don’t have chimneys at all and the smoke pours back out of the mouth of the chimney. Some have chimneys, but people normally can’t afford enough metal tubing to reach the roof, so they put a hole through their adobe wall and install the chimney at a 30 degree angle. Since the tubing is usually not tubing at all, but rather a rolled up piece of sheet metal, the smoke usually escapes through the crack in mass quantity. The effectiveness of these make-shift chimneys can usually be measured in 2 ways. First, do I hack and cough immediately after entering their house, and second, is their ceiling black and is their an inch of soot on the ceiling? In houses without a chimney I always hack and cough. In houses with angled chimneys it is usually foggy, but I can breathe okay, but the ceiling is always black as night and coated in a layer of soot. Obviously, the smoke is having some lasting effects on the health of pretty much everyone. This is made more obvious since after I spend a day constructing I usually have black boogers for a day or two.

Construction is easy and fun. To build one stove takes between 3 and 8 hours, depending on a variety of circumstances. We start by building a smoke chamber out of bricks and cement blocks, attaching everything using freshly mixed mud. Then we build the outside walls, add in the firebox, and build the mouth of the stove. Next we cut a hole in the roof and put the chimney in. Then we put the cooking surface on and cover the whole thing in concrete to seal it.

I say we since everyone builds stoves with a partner. One person prepares the surface while the other mixes mud. One cuts the hole in the roof while one pushes the chimney through. One cuts bricks to the right size while the other installs them. One does something while the other plays with the local kids. If there are three people, one member can distract the kids most of the day. My partner has always been Don Julio. Don is a term of respect added in Latin America to anyone who you feel deserves respect, which is basically every adult without another title. I am sometimes Don Andres, and sometimes just Andres and sometimes Licensiado Andres, which is the title for someone with a college education. Also used are professor, doctor, engineer, and probably some others. Respect is important. Don Julio always takes the lead between us, but this is because he is a detail person and a micromanager. We work together better when he is in the lead. When I am leading, he tends to stare at everything I do curiously, then he will take the brick I am about to place and turns it around, despite the fact there is no discernable difference between the sides. So, I let him lead. It makes him happier and more relaxed. It also leaves me free to play with the little kids, so really, win-win.

All too often when people see poverty in Latin America, it is from the highway on the way to the beach, and all the houses look the same. They all have the same cheap adobe construction, the same cheap metal roofs. All seem to have the same old clothes on identical clothes lines. Even with that description most people already have the picture in their head. While occasionally I see similarities amongst the house I work in, I find that such a generalization misses so many great things about not only the people, but also the vast differences amongst the houses.

Most houses are pretty simple, concrete covering adobe, or just adobe. The roofs are almost always metal laminate. Paint is usually bright, since if someone can afford it they want it to change the feel of the house. A large quantity will have 2 or 3 rooms. 1 room is always the kitchen. The second room is the living room. When there are only 2 rooms, people sleep in the living room. When there are three, they usually have a bedroom. Tile floors are rare and a major symbol of wealth in a village. Most are dirt or concrete floors. Everyone decorates their house and they will do it with anything they have. I see a large quantity of dirty stuffed animals Americans would toss aside, but have been kept and treasured for the memories they bring. In the states, a product that comes with a sticker is usually ignored, or the sticker is given to a child. This is not true in these small villages. Much of the time, a sticker can be in English and it will still have a place of honor on the wall, since it brings color to an otherwise drab house. Calendars are quality decoration and will be up for years after the usefulness expires. The decorations in the houses eventually start to feel like a complete life story. Everything is there: the only family photo ever taken, next to the stuffed animal given during courting, and even the sticker that came with the baby’s first can of powdered milk. Nothing is left out for being tacky or dirty. Professional decorators don’t come and sanitize everything and limit certain colors. While this is a very romantic notion, I will admit, it is usually not very pretty, but every house feels lived in. Every house feels like the people inside are making the best of what they have.

If the houses are interesting, the people are incredible. I love walking to the community in the morning before all the men have gone of to “chopear” (to chop, meaning to clear land for agriculture). Almost everyone knows my name and is happy to great me as I walk up. If I get the timing perfectly I can be invited to coffee at 3 different houses before I finally make it to Don Julio’s house. I always ask how everyone is doing and how their family is. They always ask me how the stoves are coming, where I am building that day and joke that I am becoming a craftsman. Sometimes people will ask me about other things, like the micro-finance organization or what Alice is doing. I have never been met with hostility and no one has ever asked me for money. It is like living in another world. I finally get to Don Julio’s place an hour and a half after I left my house, unless I talked to more people than normal, then sometimes it can be longer. I try to get to his house at 8. Then he tells me where we are headed to and we start walking, sometimes another half hour. When we get to where we are constructing the people are always very receptive and excited. They know how much this will help them.

I suppose I can’t really generalize any other parts of each family they are all different. Sometimes I get to houses and can’t really tell where one generation ends and the next one starts. Family planning could be much better executed in the country-side of Honduras. Don Julio makes about $6 a day, but supports himself, his wife, 4 of his own kids and one of his uncle’s children. I went to one house where there were 14 people living in the house and it seemed like they had 3 kids under ten, 3 kids under 20, 4 people under 30, and 4 around 40. I couldn’t tell where one generation started or another stopped, and I wondered how it affects a kid to sleep in a room with 5 other people crammed in.

Sometimes when I am working I see evidence the people had previously been very successful. I went in one house that has a fridge, microwave, and a stove/oven combo. I was confused why they needed the wood burning stove, so I asked Don Julio. He told me there was no electricity there. Now, even more confused I asked why they would buy so many appliances if they were effectively only enormous paper weights. That’s when he taught me how truly ineffective government can be. They had electricity, but not since 1998. Hurricane Mitch destroyed the lines and after the main parts of the city got electricity, the NGOs and foreign governments stopped caring. The Hurricane also took out a couple major coffee farms which were major sources of employment. The coffee farms have mostly been replanted, but no one gets paid as much as they used to, and the appliances will continue to sit until the power company that is run by the government decides to rebuild the lines. Problem is that particular line really affects only 8 houses, but the line will cost a couple thousand dollars. It will be a long time before anyone cares, especially since similar projects can bring electricity to more people cheaper. Until then, the family will continue to hold onto the appliances, hoping that they will eventually get to use them again. They don’t even seem to notice that the appliances are there except when they are cleaning. Despite their uselessness, there was not a spot of dust on any of it. When they cooked my lunch they just use the stove outside. Thanks to my project they at least get to cook inside again.

I had a pretty unique experience when I had another gringo in the mountains helping me. He was sent to me by one of my bosses and was working on community service for his frat in the states. Charles was 19, and was happy to do something unique for his community service. The first day we went into the mountains I made him walk just like I do, and he agrees. It is a long walk.

The first day we just taught him the process and he was amazed by the stoves we were replacing. He had lived in Africa and where he lived people cooked on open fires all the time, but would build the open fires outside. He was surprised how much smoke people would just inhale. He was also impressed that the design for the stove came from a local.

The second day he had his Mom give us a ride up the mountain and it still took 45 minutes. The roads aren’t really made for vehicles to go more than 15 miles per hour. When we got to the house the second day the kids were especially active and playful, so after we got the initial 2 hours of work done he was put in charge or distracting them while Julio and I finished everything up.

His job expanded when a neighbor came by and started asking him hundreds of questions about everything. About an hour into his job as entertainer the kids decided they wanted to learn English, so they got him a pad of paper and a pen and had him start writing words for them to practice. Another 20 minutes later we noticed the neighbor gentleman had gotten hold of the notebook and was writing something with a very serious look. After we notice, one of the kids starts reading it to us, but the guy gets embarrassed and covers the page after we hear “dear friend”. The note, in the end, was something I’m still not sure how to react to. Writing here is not something taken lightly. Kids don’t write each other notes (instead they usually just talk during class) because notes can be taken very seriously. Finally he presents Charles his note that basically explains he is sincere about wanting to be Charles’ friend and the gentleman would appreciate not being forgotten and wants Charles to visit his ranch as soon as possible.

As the day went on the gentleman continued talking to Charles and eventually his real intentions started to show. He wanted to go to the US, and he wanted Charles to give him a job (despite the fact Charles himself was happily unemployed for his years at university). Now having someone ask a North American to take them to the US is pretty normal. I get it weekly from a restaurant owner (who is an awesome guy) who wants to visit his kids, but doesn’t have the visa or the money. He is always joking, but if I took him seriously, he would never decline the offer. I am certain to always keep the conversation joking, since I really like the guy, and I don’t want him to be disappointed when I don’t take him to the states (because I am not going to).

The situation with Charles showed different signals than the usual situation. I can usually blow off any similar request and make it joking, and Charles was trying hard to get back to that sort of feeling, but the guy was earnest and seemed increasingly desperate as time went on. Charles displayed good humor, but he was glad to leave an hour later when the stove was finished. The whole situation was really weird. I’ve never had such a situation happen to me, but I also do a better job blending. I never wear shorts and when I am constructing stoves, I wear my work pants which are covered in mud and a white t-shirt. Charles was wearing a decent shirt and shorts. His accent is also much more obvious (mine is still pretty obvious, but I have a year of practice).

In the end though it is hard to say why he was put in the tough situation while I have always avoided it. Perhaps because Charles was merely on vacation and I am a resident of Honduras. Perhaps my community integration pays off in ways I didn’t expect. Or perhaps he was just playing openly with kids and the guy thought Charles would be easier to convince. The guy made Charles write him a note back, and then the guy asked me to do it. I refused while Charles didn’t. I said I can’t write in Spanish, which in that area of the world is normal for adults. Charles did it thinking it would get the guy off his back a little. Coming from the most privileged nation is something all Americans should all celebrate and never forget. During high school I was a bit of a critic of all things American, but only after having done something like this do I realize that despite all of the flaws, America has obviously done a great deal correctly. Since the whole situation was odd, I think the real reason Charles got asked is because he comes off more like a gringo than me. Regardless, it was the first real reminder I had in a long time that I am still an outsider. I definitely sympathized more with Charles than the neighbor, and I felt bad that he was being harassed about a job on his vacation and I couldn’t really stop it.

We are nearly done with the first community at 39/50, but a long way away from the 250 to complete the project. I am still short a lot of material to start the next community, but I’ll be happy to do it when I get them. In the next community I’ll have a new work partner, and maybe I’ll get to build the walls instead of mix dirt and water, but either way I don’t care. A friend of mine is inviting me to participate in a brigade to build latrines in a couple months and I can’t wait. Latrines are awesome too, but for more obvious reasons.

Overdue update #2- Costa Rica #2

The day following our horseback riding and canopy adventure our plan was to head off to the beach. The hotel gave us a ride back to Liberia and they told us to wait at the corner for a bus. Fortunately we looked around and saw a sign that said bus stop, since Costa Rica actually seems to have assigned stops. In Honduras any where you can flag down the bus is a bus stop and any where you want to get off is okay. This is great since we can walk a block down our hill and wait at the corner near the mini-market and wave down the bus and then once we get to the capital we just ask to get off in front of our office. It delays the bus sometimes and prevents any sort of schedule on a great number of routes, but when we need the luxury to get off when we want and not be forced to take a taxi it is quite nice. Costa Rica is not like that. They have schedules, bus stops, and the driver takes your money as you get on. In some ways it makes more sense, but for all the people who have to get off at the stop in their town and then walk 8 blocks back to their house despite the fact the bus passes their street, that sucks.

While waiting at our luxury covered bus stop I noticed a guy with a bicycle with a cooler strapped to it. In Honduras this usually means the person is selling something, generally ice cream and I didn’t notice what he was yelling, so I assumed it was nothing I really wanted. A few minutes later we found another advantage to the Honduran bus system when the first bus passed. Costa Ricans don’t paint the destination of every bus on the front and instead display signs to inform people where the bus is going. This would seem to make little difference, but it seems the drivers don’t like to change them so most of the buses that passed said Liberia (the name of the town we were in) despite the fact they were obviously leaving Liberia. This means the idiot tourists have to shout at every driver to find out where they are going. Honduras wins point that for sure. Every bus has the 2 cities the bus runs between in the largest possible letters without blocking the drivers view. No shouting. After 2 buses passes the man with the cooler got harassed by some kids and opened his cooler to sell them: Coconuts. He had a machete and hacked off just enough of the top you could shove a straw through the white fruit and sip the cool milk out. Then when the milk is finished, you could give it back to him and he’d slice it in half and cut out the fruit. It was awesome, so I bought one. I don’t think most adults enjoy this as much as I did, since he gave me a funny look, but I really didn’t care.

Finally, we shouted at a driver and he shouted back “Playa Tamarindo” which is exactly where we going, so we got on. We were the only ones with luggage. For most of the journey we were one of few tourists on the bus, which is strange since the bus system there is clean, efficient and comfortable. The bus looked like a normal city bus from the states, not a used school bus. There were a few gringos on and off, which I’ve never seen outside of a luxury bus in Honduras, but not as many as I would expect.

The ride was nearly 2 hours, but Alice and Carmen saw a monkey through the window. I wasn’t sitting with them since the only other open seat was in the back of the bus, so later it inspired the following conversation:

Carmen: We saw a monkey
Alice: Yeah, it was cool
Drew: Really? That’s awesome. I’ve never seen wildlife from a bus in Honduras.
Carmen: That’s because the wildlife there isn’t as well protected.
Drew: They have a pretty decent national park system in Honduras, no worse than Costa Rica’s.
Carmen: That’s true, but how many buses go through national parks?
Drew: I guess none, but there should be some animals.
Carmen: You’re forgetting Honduran eating habits. Hondurans talk a lot about what wildlife there used to be in an area, and usually follow that up with, “but it was so delicious”.
Drew: I don’t know.

At first I thought Carmen was making things up, but since then I’ve confirmed with other Peace Corps volunteers that Hondurans will often tell them what animals used to be in the area, and in what manner they were eaten, though most only talk about the black iguana. So really I doubt Honduras was ever a paradise for monkeys and like animals, but Honduras really do love to eat what ever small critter they can find. One girl in our group went from omnivore to herbivore the day she saw her host family kill an armadillo in the water tank where she had previously gotten water to brush her teeth. After that she used bottled water and will refuse any meat offered to her.

Finding our hotel was harder than planned. The map was a few years old and only half the businesses still existed, so we were slightly off on our estimate on when to get off and we had to stay on the bus until it turned around and pay another dime per person to get back into the center of town. When we got off it still took us a minute to find it, but this should have been more obvious from the name of the hotel: Harry’s Escondite or in English: Hidden Harry’s. Harry’s place is hard to describe as is Harry himself. Harry is a balding man who still wears his hair long like a proper surfer, was born in Indonesia, but was a citizen of North America, and is now applying to be a Costa Rican resident. He obviously arrived on the beach long before most, since he still remembers the day of supermarket price gouging and when most food was local. He has four or five cabins and he always occupies one, though it rotates depending on customers’ requests. When we visited he also had 2 cabins rented out on a monthly basis. One to a Canadian fisherman who works 4 months a year (the fishing season) and the other 8 months seems to travel around. The other was rented to a British competitive sailor turned photographer and general entrepreneur. While we were there the British gentleman was voted to be the executive producer of a short film they planned on taking to film festivals. This is the kind of people he seems to attract all the time, so the place never seems like it would get dull. Our cabin had a queen bed and a sort of sofa bed. It was hard to describe since it didn’t look terribly comfortable for either purpose, but it was Carmen’s bed and she seemed to think it was perfectly comfortable and there were plenty of other places to sit, so I never really used it to be a better judge. It came fully equipped with a TV, DVD player, a small collection of DVDs, a stereo, gas stove, oven, dishes, basic condiments and a full sized fridge with a freezer. The water in Costa Rica is potable and the place had a two knob shower (see next paragraph for a rambling explanation of that phrase). He also had a washing machine and dryer we could use for free (we washed everything we brought and contemplated washing them again, just cause we could). Outside there was a gas grill we could use and a pool. Our Christmas was beginning to feel a lot more like a Fourth of July barbeque, but we were okay with that. Finally, Harry keeps a collection of surf boards and a couple of bikes guests can to use for free. While it is obvious he doesn’t maintain the grounds like a 5 start hotel, and he could care less about changing your sheets, the place feels like staying at a friend’s house in Costa Rica. The place is worth every penny as long as you take advantage of all the features, and we did.

There are three types of shower in Latin America (excluding bucket baths, which are also quite common), though you may not know it. The first is a cold water shower and has only one knob in the bathroom. A room with this sort of shower should never cost more than a few bucks a night. The second is another type of one knob shower where the showerhead has an electric heating element in it that, depending on the water pressure and voltage either makes the water scalding or a little warm or doesn’t really do much. The third is the standard in America and has two knobs one being attached to a hot water heater. There is a fourth type in Europe, and probably additional types all over the world, but in Latin America 2 knobs mean ultimate luxury.

That night we went down to the beach for the sunset and ended up staying for dinner. On the way back to the hotel we picked up some groceries including Italian sausage and bratwurst, both things we hadn’t eaten for over a year. The next day was Christmas Eve. Breakfast was eggs and Italian sausage and lunch was a bratwurst barbeque. In between lunch and dinner we went down and bummed around the beach. Sadly, the waves are usually large and crashing, making for some fantastic surfing, but the waves just weren’t there, so we bummed around the beach and played in the sand. Okay, I played in the sand, the girls worked on their tans. That afternoon we tried to work out our return to Honduras and found out it was going to be a two-day trip. Fortunately we had planned for the possibility of that, but it cut out 8 hours at the beach. Then we shopped around and discovered Costa Rica is expensive. We ended up buying very little, since 90% of the products could be found in Honduras and at much cheaper prices and the other 10% was obscenely expensive. That night we considered three different dinner plans before deciding on fish soup. Fish soup from a shack on the beach is always great and this was no exception.

For Christmas breakfast I made Alice her favorite, biscuits and gravy. That was the only part of Christmas that felt like Christmas. There weren’t even Christmas movies on TV. I suppose in some ways it made passing Christmas without any family easier, but really it felt like Christmas was cancelled, and we had a Fourth of July redo.

We walked down to the beach and stopped to look at a few more shops hoping we could get some presents for people. We didn’t really find anything, but we eventually walked down to the beach. We got to the beach and I saw a few people surfing. The waves still weren’t breaking very well, but there was about 20 meters where a person could stand up and I wanted to be one of the ridiculous if only to say I surfed on Christmas. I turned around and went to get one of the boards at the hotel and the girls found themselves some fruity drinks. Walking with a long board in the wind sucks, but I made it just fine. How did surfing go? Well, let me show you the pictures, as I can describe it, but it will never be as awesome as the visual.

So, here I am on surfboard in the ocean. I’ve surfed once before and loved it. Carmen just had a 30 minute turn and told me to take as long as I want. I start off away from the crowd, but no waves are coming. I can see a few people on my left having some luck.



I was slightly nervous about the crowd, but I decide to go that way anyways. Now I am closer to the middle of a pack of about 15. I decided to take some time before I start so I sit on my board and watch the surf students. Basically, the lay on the board and instead of paddling the instructor pushes them right before the wave and shouts “pop up”. Now I have a slightly good idea about what I should be doing and it’s simple: paddle, then pop.



Finally, the right wave comes at the right time, I paddle, but I don’t quite pop. This is not a huge surprise, since I don’t do a lot of popping in my everyday life, but I at least get my knee under me. I stand up the rest of the way for about 2 seconds, which is about how long I stood up the entire first time I went surfing. I am ecstatic. Notice the guy on my right in the picture pops correctly, so he is already fully standing. I looked like that half a second later. Sadly, the camera takes a couple seconds before another shot can be taken, and Alice doesn’t get another chance. I’ve already wiped out, and this is the next picture.



You’ll notice that everyone has wiped out at this point. And the people on both sides of me are looking at me. Was I that awesome? Well, no, and lets face it, we already knew that, but in case you can’t see it in that last picture, lets zoom in!

I think they were looking at me because I shrieked like a little girl when the guy next to and slightly behind me fell of backwards and sent his board into the side of my head like a missile. Thanks to the time it takes the camera Alice caught the timing perfect. The board literally bounced backwards off my head following the impact, so she got the perfect evidence. Thanks for the reload time, camera. Instead of the awesome picture of me standing up, the world is forever left with me getting nailed in the head. The impact hit my ear so hard it opened up a little cut that bled for nearly 5 hours and there is still a scar. Don’t get me wrong; this didn’t discourage me from spending another 2 hours surfing (though I was dazed for the first 30 minutes or so), but it made me very aware of the people around me all the time. Lesson learned.

After the surfing we went to a local sushi restaurant and had a great lunch. Afterwards, Carmen took the board and got some more time in on the ocean before what little waves there were stopped completely. When we left the beach Alice, Carmen and I agreed it was a great day, but not even vaguely Christmas. I took the short way since I was carrying the board, and Carmen and Alice stopped by a restaurant we’d been referred to for a great dinner. The reservation was for 8 that night since it was a nice place and most people thought to make their reservation the day before. The girls got themselves made up and I watched some TV. Then we ran by a chic little joint for a cocktail before we went to our reservation. The food was great, but Alice’s fish was more memorable than my I don’t remember. Following dinner, the plan was to go out dancing, but not one of us had the energy. Instead we headed back to Harry’s to pay the tab and prepare for the following day’s journey. We had to get to Managua the next day and judging from how long the line at the border was when we left we wanted to be sure to get there early. The only 2 early buses out of Tamarindo left at 6:00 and 9:00. To be safe we agreed to go at 6:00. That night we ran into what I will call my reason to hate paypal, but thanks to my parents we got it taken care of. I will never use paypal if there is another option. Sorry for the 1am wake up Mom and Dad, but thanks. It won’t happen again.

Five am is a terrible time of the day. If you are up that late, it may have some redeeming value, but in the morning it is something I can live with, but will never like. We got on a bus to Liberia without problem, and onto another to the border. Costa Rica’s border with Nicaragua is the craziest of all the borders I’ve ever crossed. El Salvador-Honduras was the easiest, but I was only going for a swim and ended up in El Salvador, I swam back without a problem also. Costa Rica has so many perpetual tourists that cross the border and the return the next day they make everyone get an exit stamp. So, I had to exit Costa Rica, get inspected, and then be admitted to Nicaragua. The fence makes it feel like I was escaping from jail; since the entrance to Nicaragua was a place someone cut a chain link fence and bent it open.

We had no reason to get up so early after all. The day after Christmas is not a big tourism day. We got a bus to Managua by 11:00 and were in Managua before 2. We hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so after we found a disgusting but only $6-a-night hotel we asked for and received directions to a local mall. It was walking distance, but I would never walk it again. The street, the people, the buildings all made me uncomfortable. We were forced to walk in front of a group of 12 guys who all thought they needed to yell at Carmen and Alice. Usually I make a face or say something, but I didn’t want push my luck. They let us pass with only a verbal assault on my good taste. Inside the mall was like the inside of every mall in the world, so we could relax in comparison to the walk over. We grabbed some fast food and then went to a movie.

After the movie I had one of the most memorable experiences of my life, though I doubt even after I tell you the story you’ll understand why. We decided to have dinner at the food court, since our trip to the internet café didn’t uncover and American style restaurants in the city. (Like TGI Fridays, Chili’s, or Applebee’s, that sort of thing is a traveler’s heaven. The food is exactly what you expect every time and the service is American style, which is exactly what a gringo wants sometimes, and they always have the best drinks available and sometimes a happy hour.) Anyways, food court food sounded like the next best thing, but none of it looked appealing. We walked around 4 times until we decided we would eat at the Middle Eastern place. As soon as we walked in the place seemed different than anywhere I’ve ever been. The painting on the wall was an obviously a Middle Eastern teacher smoking from a hookah with a student looking on in admiration. The walls were dark, and a fruity smell mixed with the smalls of shish-kabobs from the kitchen. They had a special edition of the best Nicaraguan brew, so we ordered a round and a couple plates. While we waited on our food I noticed the light fixtures were little LED lights shining onto colored glass balls being held in the fixture by an inverted tripod. The bar winded through the tiny space and was made of real wood. Everything matched. It all looked like an oasis of Middle Eastern culture. Well, everything except the music. They had on some disco mix and looking around I discovered it was all coming from the TV which was showing the videos. Everything from the Village People to the Bee Gees to early Blondie played. Strangely, even that seemed to fit in. The restaurant’s bar and 3 tables we’re packed and there were people just standing, singing along to American music from the 60’s and having a drink. The whole thing was surreal. The owners were Iraqi and seemed completely indifferent to Americans, which was also great. Too many times I’ve heard the horror stories of the extreme hate, or the extreme awkwardness of the love. After a while we noticed the scent changed and finally we discovered the source or the smell. A couple of young Nicaraguans had ordered a hookah. Carmen and I asked for one and we enjoyed the smooth charcoal smoke filtered through the sweet lemon tobacco for an hour before we went to leave. Outside the restaurant we were immediately reminded we were in Latin America by a howling teenage girl singing Mall karaoke in the food court. We left as fast as possible and took a cab instead of braving the trip back on foot.

From there, the vacation was basically over. We got up really early again and caught the bus back to Tegus. Carmen got lucky and the bus crossed the border in the South of Honduras and she got to get off in Choluteca, which is about 20 minutes from where she lives. We got home 2 hours later.

You may have noticed many things have been compared to Honduras. I guess this is a product of living in Honduras for so long. Often Americans compare things to the US and I feel like they aren’t really comparing apples to apples. While Honduras as a reference point makes for a good comparison in Central America, the fact none of us could escape comparing everything really wore me down after a while. The question was never: is this food good, but instead: is this food better than Honduran food. I never did that to Honduras and that was probably for the best. At the end of the whole vacation I decided I would try to give every country a fair chance from then on, so I don’t miss things. In the end my vacation had a moral. Ugh.