August 26, 2010
flood: (n) a great flowing or overflowing of water, esp. over land not usually submerged.
"Where have you been?!" he asked tiredly. I was supposed to call Andrew hours ago. "Well, have I got a story for you! You are never going to believe what happened tonight…"
The rain started just as we were leaving school. Of course every day is sweltering hot while I'm stuck in a classroom and as soon as I can leave to go home and enjoy the rest of the day, the clouds tumble down the mountain and release their weight on the town. It sprinkled and bit and let up so the walk home wasn’t bad.
Tonight was my night to call Andrew. We talk twice a week now, not a bad system. I checked my phone to see how much Lempira I had left. The phones here are pay as you go. You put money on your phone and when the money's gone you can't make any more phone calls until you put more on again. As far as cost per minute, it's anyone's guess. All I knew tonight was that I needed money on my phone. The rain had stopped but the sky still lingered black and it wouldn't be long before dark. I took a trip down the hill to buy more "minutes". The very moment I stepped outside to begin my walk the sky opened up and began to pour. I contemplated taking a left and hiding at the boys house on my way home. La Union was being swallowed by the thundercloud, I could feel the static in the air. It's actually amazing that I didn't get struck by lightning, this storm was different than storms in the past. I made it to the apartment downstairs, where Albin and Osiris now live.
When the wind began to blow, I raced upstairs to close my windows. Windows here do not have seals like in the states, I closed them as tightly as I could and listened as the air howled through the gaps. Andrea and Dilcia, one of the hired hands at the house, were outside at the stove making tortillas for tonight's Baliadas. On my way to say hello I was awestruck by the light show in the sky. Under the shelter of the porch roof outside our front door I sat on the dining room chair and gazed at the sky. Even though I love living here, there are thing about home that I miss, thunderstorms being one of them. Tonight's violent weather was a comfort and reminder of home. In what seemed like slow motion, I watched as a lightning bolt squiggled out of the sky and struck the cell phone tower in town. The sparks from the sky illuminated the town and blinded me. The explosion of the thunder crack brought me back to reality and I let out a scream. My body was tightly curled into a ball on the chair. Bryony, who was also helping with tortillas, came running around the corner into the house, Holly emerged from her bedroom. "What was that?!" Apparently in England they don't have storms like this. I encouraged them both to pull up a chair and enjoy the show. Some time later Karen, the other hired hand in the house, came upstairs looking for the broom. In her hurried Spanish I was pretty sure she said there was a lot of water downstairs. Curious, I left the girls and went downstairs to see what was going on.
The stairwell was dark and I couldn't find the bottom step. I lowered my foot to feel around and was met with water. I withdrew my foot and tried to see when a lightning flash lit up the driveway where the stairs let out. Water, brown water, everywhere. Both pick up trucks' tires were half submerged. Around the corner Karen was in the apartment desperately trying to sweep out the water which had already flooded the living room about an inch. Josue and Josaline were crying out for their parents. To the right I saw the silhouettes of Albin and Osiris in the street which had become a river and the river was flowing down the driveway into the house. Quickly I ran upstairs and jumped into my rain boots. I ran back down the stairs and joined Albin and Osiris. They were digging a trench to defer the water from their house while simultaneously building up a barrier with what rocks they could move. This image is something I will never forget. Osiris, in flip flops, was on her hands and knees in the road digging with her bare hands as hard as she could at rocks to build a barricade. In water up to his knees, Albin was digging and kicking at the dirt beneath the river to alter its course away from the house. The rain could not have been coming down any harder. Thunder and lightning were all around, cracking and flashing in every which direction. The danger of the storm was no match for the determination of this couple to protect their home and family.
My raincoat and rain boots were no match for this storm. I knelt down beside Osiris and started grabbing at anything I could that would hold up against the water. We dug up some broken tiles and used them as shovels. Bryony and Holly came down to check what was going on and immediately jumped into action. We started carrying things out of the flooded rooms to use as barriers, old shelves, cupboard doors. Our efforts seemed successful enough after some time. We left the street and Albin had already begun draining the water from the driveway. I don't even know if Osiris was aware of the two rooms at the bottom of the stairs until I asked her what we should do about them. Buckets, bowls and pots were our tools to get the water out of these rooms. Each room was being used for storage and was full, floor to ceiling, of their belongings. Now, it was also full of about 2 feet of water. We spent the rest of the night bailing water out the doors and windows of both rooms. Brown dirty flood water splashed into my eyes and mouth with every sweep of the bucket, while the rain outside continued to pour.
"We can see the floor!" Holly cried out from the other room. Our efforts had paid off and all that remained was a few inches of water that was nearly impossible to bail out with a bucket. About this time some friends of Albin showed up with a pump. A man set the pump down on the water covered floor of the room I was standing in and took out the chord that is suppose to plug into the wall. There was, however, no prong for an outlet at the end of this chord, only bare wires. I decided quickly that it was time for me to go. Osiris suggested that we all had to eat at some point and the women, soaked to the bone with muddy flood water, retreated to the house for some food. The flood interrupted cooking dinner big time. Baliadas was the plan, which we sort of had. Just beans and tortillas, but after what we went through we were all just happy to be eating. On full stomachs we mingled back over to where the men were causing flickering in the electricity with their pump. Most all of the water had gone and what was left behind was utter disaster. For tonight, getting rid of the water was all that could be done. It was time to rest now, everything else would wait for morning.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
dec-o-rate
August 21, 2010
decorate: (v) to furnish or adorn with something ornamental or becoming.
Technically this was my first full week of work, a warm up week if you will. We reported to school at 8 am every school day in half uniform, jeans and a white polo, and worked until 3 pm. Monday we began with a welcome meeting, introductions and brief overview of school policies, again all in Spanish. But for the most part we spent the week decorating our classrooms.
I was not told to bring classroom decorations from the states, even after asking I was told that everything would be provided for me. Perhaps I should have asked what "everything" meant. To say resources here in La Union are limited would be an understatement. While other teachers had decorations they purchased over the summer or in years past from bigger cities such as Tegucigalpa or San Pedro Sula, I had construction paper and scissors. I was given a list of requirements as to what needed to be up on my walls and started cutting. Requirements: A bible verse (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18); "Welcome"; a birthday calendar of sorts; monthly calendar; class schedule; name tags on the desks; cursive letters; "Honduras Heroes" (pictures of important national figures such as presidents, national tree, etc.); classroom rules (speak English, respect others, listen carefully, ask permission); borders for my whiteboard. Pink, orange and yellow were my colors of choice, of course. Bryony and Holly, the Project Trust volunteers from England who also live with Andrea and I, saved my life. They must have cut out hundreds of traced letters for my walls. I literally could not have done it without them. The entire week was a blur of cutting, pasting and taping. None of us really thought it would take more than a few days to cover the walls, how wrong we were. We finished up on Friday just in time for parent orientation. "I think you have the happiest classroom in the whole world," Holly said as we stood proudly looking around the 5th grade classroom.
decorate: (v) to furnish or adorn with something ornamental or becoming.
Technically this was my first full week of work, a warm up week if you will. We reported to school at 8 am every school day in half uniform, jeans and a white polo, and worked until 3 pm. Monday we began with a welcome meeting, introductions and brief overview of school policies, again all in Spanish. But for the most part we spent the week decorating our classrooms.
I was not told to bring classroom decorations from the states, even after asking I was told that everything would be provided for me. Perhaps I should have asked what "everything" meant. To say resources here in La Union are limited would be an understatement. While other teachers had decorations they purchased over the summer or in years past from bigger cities such as Tegucigalpa or San Pedro Sula, I had construction paper and scissors. I was given a list of requirements as to what needed to be up on my walls and started cutting. Requirements: A bible verse (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18); "Welcome"; a birthday calendar of sorts; monthly calendar; class schedule; name tags on the desks; cursive letters; "Honduras Heroes" (pictures of important national figures such as presidents, national tree, etc.); classroom rules (speak English, respect others, listen carefully, ask permission); borders for my whiteboard. Pink, orange and yellow were my colors of choice, of course. Bryony and Holly, the Project Trust volunteers from England who also live with Andrea and I, saved my life. They must have cut out hundreds of traced letters for my walls. I literally could not have done it without them. The entire week was a blur of cutting, pasting and taping. None of us really thought it would take more than a few days to cover the walls, how wrong we were. We finished up on Friday just in time for parent orientation. "I think you have the happiest classroom in the whole world," Holly said as we stood proudly looking around the 5th grade classroom.
farm
August 19, 2010
farm: (n) a tract of land, usually with a house, barn, silo, etc., on which crops and often livestock are raised for livelihood.
Jake is a coffee farmer now, well kind of. He and 2 other families are co-owners of a coffee farm, or finca, in Pina Batel, a village just outside of La Union. While cleaning up my classroom to go home for the night, Andrea knocked on my door to pass along an invitation from Jake and Mr. Perdomo, our principal and one of Jakes co-owners, to visit the finca. I guess lesson planning will have to wait one more night. We made a trip home first to change out of our school clothes and into something more suitable for hiking through a coffee field. I of course slipped into my yellow rain boots, just to be safe.
The truck pulled up to a house up a hill from the "main" road. The house and shell of a coffee processing facility sat below the fields of coffee trees, which all came with the purchase of the finca. Jake gave us the grand tour beginning with a brief overview of how the processing of the coffee works then up the hill through the fields. I highly underestimated the size of this finca and the distance we would be hiking. Up through the first field full of green coffee cherries we spotted a few random red cherries here and there. When they are red, they are ripe and ready to pick. However, if they are red this early and the rest of the plant is not red, the bean is probably bad.
Continuing on our hike up a narrow path, over a stream, up a muddy slope, we reached a high point which offered a fantastic view of another part of the finca and a view of the approaching storm. Surprise surprise, another storm. It has literally rained every day since we arrived in La Union. The typical pattern is sun in the morning, early afternoon, and just about the time we need to walk home from school it rains, and rains for the rest of the night. Despite the threatening weather in the distance we continued our hike. We ducked under a giant tree which had fallen down or been cut down, I'm not really sure, and walked up another muddy path, another stream, some more coffee plants… Concluding in what was the most tropical looking coffee field I have ever seen.
Towering overhead were giant shade trees. The field sloped gently upward before disappearing into the thick, dark foliage. Jake told us that this is where the most work has been done, and has yet to be done. Because of the abundance of rain and the lack of maintenance before the finca was purchased, the coffee trees and other plants are completely overgrown. After the next harvest the coffee trees in this section will likely be cut down to the trunk. It will take about 2 or 3 years for them to grow back into producing trees again. Everything in me wanted to explore this upper section of the finca until the rain began. Thunder was mumbling in the distance and the air was foggy. Surely the cloud was descending down the mountain, time to go.
There was no escaping the rain, but we wondered what our chances were of being struck by lightning as it shot through sky around us. We slid down the muddy slopes of the mountain and finally reached our starting point. Taking shelter in the coffee processing, I'm not even sure what to call it, shed? Anyway Mr. Perdomo, who had disappeared at some point along our journey, rendezvoused with us there. I inquired again about how the coffee process works. The cherries are picked from the tree when the field is full of red cherries. They are dumped into the first tank where a machine de-pulps the cherry and spits out the seed. The seed is then sent to a second tank for washing. It spends a significant amount of time being washed then travels down a canal looking thing to another tank. All of this is being explained to me in Spanish, a language I have significantly improved in but have yet to master. So I have no idea what happens at the last tank, but afterwards the coffee is spread out on a concrete patio to dry in the sun. Here, in La Union, most coffee is roasted over a fire. Somewhere in town, so I am told, there is an actual roaster which I am very interested in seeing. Conversation continued on in Spanish. Of the 4 of us, Jake, Andrea, Mr. Perdomo and me, I speak the least amount of Spanish. I stopped trying to translate in my head and wondered around taking pictures.
"Le gusta café?" Mr. Perdomo asked if I like coffee. Of course I like coffee. I had yet to have coffee in Honduras. I have only been having coffee as a special occasion treat since my days in architecture school where coffee flowed thicker than my own blood through my veins. Soaking wet we jumped into the truck and drove back down the mountain into La Union. My yellow rain boots were covered in mud and still Mr. Perdomo insisted that I leave them on as I walked into his house. I can't imagine tracking this much mud into my house in the states, I would be scrubbing carpet for the rest of my life. Here in Honduras though houses either have a tile, cement or mud floor, and the only time you remove your shoes is for a shower or to sleep. His wife served us coffee and cookies around the dining room table. The coffee was from the coffee compound that Mr. Perdomo owns just outside of La Union. Before we could pour a second cup it was time for Andrea and me to return home for dinner. We were gifted a bag of coffee for our house before we said our goodbye and walked home in the rain.
farm: (n) a tract of land, usually with a house, barn, silo, etc., on which crops and often livestock are raised for livelihood.
Jake is a coffee farmer now, well kind of. He and 2 other families are co-owners of a coffee farm, or finca, in Pina Batel, a village just outside of La Union. While cleaning up my classroom to go home for the night, Andrea knocked on my door to pass along an invitation from Jake and Mr. Perdomo, our principal and one of Jakes co-owners, to visit the finca. I guess lesson planning will have to wait one more night. We made a trip home first to change out of our school clothes and into something more suitable for hiking through a coffee field. I of course slipped into my yellow rain boots, just to be safe.
The truck pulled up to a house up a hill from the "main" road. The house and shell of a coffee processing facility sat below the fields of coffee trees, which all came with the purchase of the finca. Jake gave us the grand tour beginning with a brief overview of how the processing of the coffee works then up the hill through the fields. I highly underestimated the size of this finca and the distance we would be hiking. Up through the first field full of green coffee cherries we spotted a few random red cherries here and there. When they are red, they are ripe and ready to pick. However, if they are red this early and the rest of the plant is not red, the bean is probably bad.
Continuing on our hike up a narrow path, over a stream, up a muddy slope, we reached a high point which offered a fantastic view of another part of the finca and a view of the approaching storm. Surprise surprise, another storm. It has literally rained every day since we arrived in La Union. The typical pattern is sun in the morning, early afternoon, and just about the time we need to walk home from school it rains, and rains for the rest of the night. Despite the threatening weather in the distance we continued our hike. We ducked under a giant tree which had fallen down or been cut down, I'm not really sure, and walked up another muddy path, another stream, some more coffee plants… Concluding in what was the most tropical looking coffee field I have ever seen.
Towering overhead were giant shade trees. The field sloped gently upward before disappearing into the thick, dark foliage. Jake told us that this is where the most work has been done, and has yet to be done. Because of the abundance of rain and the lack of maintenance before the finca was purchased, the coffee trees and other plants are completely overgrown. After the next harvest the coffee trees in this section will likely be cut down to the trunk. It will take about 2 or 3 years for them to grow back into producing trees again. Everything in me wanted to explore this upper section of the finca until the rain began. Thunder was mumbling in the distance and the air was foggy. Surely the cloud was descending down the mountain, time to go.
There was no escaping the rain, but we wondered what our chances were of being struck by lightning as it shot through sky around us. We slid down the muddy slopes of the mountain and finally reached our starting point. Taking shelter in the coffee processing, I'm not even sure what to call it, shed? Anyway Mr. Perdomo, who had disappeared at some point along our journey, rendezvoused with us there. I inquired again about how the coffee process works. The cherries are picked from the tree when the field is full of red cherries. They are dumped into the first tank where a machine de-pulps the cherry and spits out the seed. The seed is then sent to a second tank for washing. It spends a significant amount of time being washed then travels down a canal looking thing to another tank. All of this is being explained to me in Spanish, a language I have significantly improved in but have yet to master. So I have no idea what happens at the last tank, but afterwards the coffee is spread out on a concrete patio to dry in the sun. Here, in La Union, most coffee is roasted over a fire. Somewhere in town, so I am told, there is an actual roaster which I am very interested in seeing. Conversation continued on in Spanish. Of the 4 of us, Jake, Andrea, Mr. Perdomo and me, I speak the least amount of Spanish. I stopped trying to translate in my head and wondered around taking pictures.
"Le gusta café?" Mr. Perdomo asked if I like coffee. Of course I like coffee. I had yet to have coffee in Honduras. I have only been having coffee as a special occasion treat since my days in architecture school where coffee flowed thicker than my own blood through my veins. Soaking wet we jumped into the truck and drove back down the mountain into La Union. My yellow rain boots were covered in mud and still Mr. Perdomo insisted that I leave them on as I walked into his house. I can't imagine tracking this much mud into my house in the states, I would be scrubbing carpet for the rest of my life. Here in Honduras though houses either have a tile, cement or mud floor, and the only time you remove your shoes is for a shower or to sleep. His wife served us coffee and cookies around the dining room table. The coffee was from the coffee compound that Mr. Perdomo owns just outside of La Union. Before we could pour a second cup it was time for Andrea and me to return home for dinner. We were gifted a bag of coffee for our house before we said our goodbye and walked home in the rain.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
show-er
August 15, 2010
shower: (n) a bath in which water is sprayed on the body, usually from an overhead perforated nozzle.
I have taken showers in La Union before, one almost every day for 3 months last summer. Most of the time the water was freezing, about half the time the water was brown, once in a while there just was no water. This morning however, was an experience I had never had before.
I opened my eyes at 6 this morning. A combination of the busses, roosters and the natural light that my bedroom receives woke me up. I forced myself to stay in bed until 7, then it all got interesting. My shower began in the bathroom that Andrea and I share, which is between our rooms. The water was brown this morning because of all the rain we received last night. I decided a shower was necessary no matter the color of the water and proceeded. Showers here in Honduras have electric shower heads that heat the water. The water heated up just fine and my shampoo was bubbling in my hair when I noticed the smell of burning plastic. Above my head there was smoke coming from the chords of the shower head. Suddenly, POP POPOP, some sizzle and flying sparks in my shower. I shut the water off immediately and cautiously turned off the hot water switch on the shower head. It took me a few minutes to wrap my mind around what had just happened as I stood outside the shower naked with my hair still white with shampoo. Wrapped in a towel I tip toed to the other side of the house carrying all of my shower toiletries dripping water as I went. There are 2 other bedrooms in the house, each with their own bathroom. The shower in the front room looked fine as far as I could tell. I turned on the water, and before I could even switch on the shower head to hot, the water hose from the shower head flew off and started spraying water everywhere. Annoyed and still walking around with a head full of shampoo, I transferred to the last shower. This time there wasn't even the option of running the water. A plastic bag was shoved down the drain prohibiting the use of the shower. Back to square one. Cold showers are nothing new to me, especially in La Union, and it was the only option left. The smoke and sparks had subsided and would not reignite if I kept the showerhead turned off. So I bathed in the cold, brown water.
Brown water, though better than no water, does not leave one feeling very clean. My hair, normally blonde, soft and fine, today is light brown, coarse, and dry. Albin and Patrick attempted to fix the showers after hearing my morning story. Wire and pliers is the Hondurans way of fixing everything… cars, ovens, showers. Andrea decided to test the skill of their handy work tonight and also opted for cold water after fireworks ignited during her shower. The two of agreed that it might be time for a new shower head. It's been raining here since around noon today with few breaks here and there. Tomorrow there is likely to be another cold brown shower.
shower: (n) a bath in which water is sprayed on the body, usually from an overhead perforated nozzle.
I have taken showers in La Union before, one almost every day for 3 months last summer. Most of the time the water was freezing, about half the time the water was brown, once in a while there just was no water. This morning however, was an experience I had never had before.
I opened my eyes at 6 this morning. A combination of the busses, roosters and the natural light that my bedroom receives woke me up. I forced myself to stay in bed until 7, then it all got interesting. My shower began in the bathroom that Andrea and I share, which is between our rooms. The water was brown this morning because of all the rain we received last night. I decided a shower was necessary no matter the color of the water and proceeded. Showers here in Honduras have electric shower heads that heat the water. The water heated up just fine and my shampoo was bubbling in my hair when I noticed the smell of burning plastic. Above my head there was smoke coming from the chords of the shower head. Suddenly, POP POPOP, some sizzle and flying sparks in my shower. I shut the water off immediately and cautiously turned off the hot water switch on the shower head. It took me a few minutes to wrap my mind around what had just happened as I stood outside the shower naked with my hair still white with shampoo. Wrapped in a towel I tip toed to the other side of the house carrying all of my shower toiletries dripping water as I went. There are 2 other bedrooms in the house, each with their own bathroom. The shower in the front room looked fine as far as I could tell. I turned on the water, and before I could even switch on the shower head to hot, the water hose from the shower head flew off and started spraying water everywhere. Annoyed and still walking around with a head full of shampoo, I transferred to the last shower. This time there wasn't even the option of running the water. A plastic bag was shoved down the drain prohibiting the use of the shower. Back to square one. Cold showers are nothing new to me, especially in La Union, and it was the only option left. The smoke and sparks had subsided and would not reignite if I kept the showerhead turned off. So I bathed in the cold, brown water.
Brown water, though better than no water, does not leave one feeling very clean. My hair, normally blonde, soft and fine, today is light brown, coarse, and dry. Albin and Patrick attempted to fix the showers after hearing my morning story. Wire and pliers is the Hondurans way of fixing everything… cars, ovens, showers. Andrea decided to test the skill of their handy work tonight and also opted for cold water after fireworks ignited during her shower. The two of agreed that it might be time for a new shower head. It's been raining here since around noon today with few breaks here and there. Tomorrow there is likely to be another cold brown shower.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
o-ri-en-ta-tion
August 13, 2010
orientation: (n) an introduction, as to guide one in adjusting to new surroundings, employment, activity, or the like.
First early morning thus far, looks like vacation is over. At 7:30 yesterday morning a truck arrived to drive us up the mountain. All of the teachers gathered in the office for morning devotional and prayer. Both were said in Spanish, therefore I didn't understand either of them. Mr. Lara gave an address to all of the teachers before he had us individually stand up and introduce ourselves. I tried my best in Spanish, hopefully I was understood. During introductions I noticed something; there are so many females. Do you ever notice that? Out of 9 new gringo teachers this year, only 1 is male. The general pattern that I have observed in my life is that females outnumber males in churches, mission trips, and elementary education. However, in high school and college there tends to be more male teachers than females. Why? My only guess would be that the maternal instinct within all females makes them more attracted to positions in which they are the care takers or teachers of younger children. As far as church and missions, I have no ideas.
Moving on. We split up into English and Spanish speaking groups for the rest of orientation. Rules, there are lots of rules. I started getting antsy sitting in the classroom where the temperature was climbing as the hours grew closer to noon. A break for a mid morning snack saved my stomach from digesting itself since there was no time for breakfast earlier. Some more orientation, some more rules, procedures, yadda yadda yadda. Lunch came and then… waiting, for what seemed like forever. All has been chaos this week for the administration in Gracias. The school has found itself short 2 teachers the week before school is set to begin. The administration actually pushed back the start of school date because of this. They have been arguing with Jake and the administration of the La Union school about wanting to keep Andrea and me in Gracias instead of sending us to La Union. So while they sit in the office and debate, those of us who are staying in the city (at the bottom of the mountain) wait. We were saved by the other teachers who had arranged for a truck to take them to town and back for a grocery shopping trip.
Once we were back in the city, the remaining hours of day were ours to do with what we please. Some more hammock time, nap time, and then out for a walk on the town. Jake showed us the old "haunted" church in town. Something about throwing a rock through a stained glass window, and Mary's eye. No stained glass windows in this church though. Another colonial church which I had seen last summer is next to the central park. After walking through the park somehow we stumbled onto Raquel's house (another teacher at the Gracias school) where Tabitha is staying. Within the 5 minutes it took us to walk from the tranquil park to Raquel's house an entire assembly had gathered in the park. All the sudden we turned around and there was a parade marching down the street. As we approached the parade we saw that not only was there a marching band, but hundreds of people, a stage and street vendors. The whole production assembled in less than 5 minutes. International Day of Youth was our best educated guess on what the cause of celebration was. We hung out for a while before retreating up to Guancascos. We talked over dinner about the teacher situation in Gracias. After which, Andrea and I contacted everyone we could think of that would possibly consider moving to Honduras next week to start a teaching job. The search lasted late enough…
This morning there was breakfast, sweet bread and papaya. LOVE the sweet bread, not so much the papaya. Orientation only lasted until mid morning break this time. The chaos and arguments continued over the whether or not Andrea and I would be staying in Gracias. I was ready to move to La Union. Posada Lenca is beautiful and we've been pampered all week HOWEVER, living out of a suitcase is only fun for so long. Our desires to settle in increased as our chances of leaving Gracias decreased. We happened to be around waiting again during these debates. I should have brought a book to school. We found a way back down to the city again and took lunch at, you guessed it, Guancascos. Jake joined us later wearing his battle scars in the expressions on his face. "We are going to La Union tomorrow," he said. He fought a good fight for us and won, releasing both Andrea and I from limbo.
There is a fort at the top of Gracias which we hiked to after lunch. It's beautiful, historical, and apparently serves as a make out "hot spot" for Honduran couples. You can see the entire city from within the fort walls. You can also see when bad weather is coming. We decided to hit the markets for some necessities before the rain arrived. My only necessity: Nutella. I also wanted to shop THE MARKET before heading back to the hotel but all that remains of it now is a pile of rubble and some outer walls. Not at all sure what happened in the 12 months since I've seen it, I only know that it is under reconstruction. For our last meal in Gracias we decided to mix things up and eat at the Chinese restaurant in town. Ordering Chinese food in Spanish was an experience. My stomach, currently readjusting to a Honduran diet, did not allow me to eat much, but the food was good none the less. It did, however, take 5 of us to not even finish a single order. For any future travelers, the serving sizes at this restaurant are mountainous.
Of course the night before we are scheduled to make a 2 1/2 hour trip through the windy, hilly and all dirt roads to La Union, the rain is merciless. The storm was nice to fall asleep to though…
orientation: (n) an introduction, as to guide one in adjusting to new surroundings, employment, activity, or the like.
First early morning thus far, looks like vacation is over. At 7:30 yesterday morning a truck arrived to drive us up the mountain. All of the teachers gathered in the office for morning devotional and prayer. Both were said in Spanish, therefore I didn't understand either of them. Mr. Lara gave an address to all of the teachers before he had us individually stand up and introduce ourselves. I tried my best in Spanish, hopefully I was understood. During introductions I noticed something; there are so many females. Do you ever notice that? Out of 9 new gringo teachers this year, only 1 is male. The general pattern that I have observed in my life is that females outnumber males in churches, mission trips, and elementary education. However, in high school and college there tends to be more male teachers than females. Why? My only guess would be that the maternal instinct within all females makes them more attracted to positions in which they are the care takers or teachers of younger children. As far as church and missions, I have no ideas.
Moving on. We split up into English and Spanish speaking groups for the rest of orientation. Rules, there are lots of rules. I started getting antsy sitting in the classroom where the temperature was climbing as the hours grew closer to noon. A break for a mid morning snack saved my stomach from digesting itself since there was no time for breakfast earlier. Some more orientation, some more rules, procedures, yadda yadda yadda. Lunch came and then… waiting, for what seemed like forever. All has been chaos this week for the administration in Gracias. The school has found itself short 2 teachers the week before school is set to begin. The administration actually pushed back the start of school date because of this. They have been arguing with Jake and the administration of the La Union school about wanting to keep Andrea and me in Gracias instead of sending us to La Union. So while they sit in the office and debate, those of us who are staying in the city (at the bottom of the mountain) wait. We were saved by the other teachers who had arranged for a truck to take them to town and back for a grocery shopping trip.
Once we were back in the city, the remaining hours of day were ours to do with what we please. Some more hammock time, nap time, and then out for a walk on the town. Jake showed us the old "haunted" church in town. Something about throwing a rock through a stained glass window, and Mary's eye. No stained glass windows in this church though. Another colonial church which I had seen last summer is next to the central park. After walking through the park somehow we stumbled onto Raquel's house (another teacher at the Gracias school) where Tabitha is staying. Within the 5 minutes it took us to walk from the tranquil park to Raquel's house an entire assembly had gathered in the park. All the sudden we turned around and there was a parade marching down the street. As we approached the parade we saw that not only was there a marching band, but hundreds of people, a stage and street vendors. The whole production assembled in less than 5 minutes. International Day of Youth was our best educated guess on what the cause of celebration was. We hung out for a while before retreating up to Guancascos. We talked over dinner about the teacher situation in Gracias. After which, Andrea and I contacted everyone we could think of that would possibly consider moving to Honduras next week to start a teaching job. The search lasted late enough…
This morning there was breakfast, sweet bread and papaya. LOVE the sweet bread, not so much the papaya. Orientation only lasted until mid morning break this time. The chaos and arguments continued over the whether or not Andrea and I would be staying in Gracias. I was ready to move to La Union. Posada Lenca is beautiful and we've been pampered all week HOWEVER, living out of a suitcase is only fun for so long. Our desires to settle in increased as our chances of leaving Gracias decreased. We happened to be around waiting again during these debates. I should have brought a book to school. We found a way back down to the city again and took lunch at, you guessed it, Guancascos. Jake joined us later wearing his battle scars in the expressions on his face. "We are going to La Union tomorrow," he said. He fought a good fight for us and won, releasing both Andrea and I from limbo.
There is a fort at the top of Gracias which we hiked to after lunch. It's beautiful, historical, and apparently serves as a make out "hot spot" for Honduran couples. You can see the entire city from within the fort walls. You can also see when bad weather is coming. We decided to hit the markets for some necessities before the rain arrived. My only necessity: Nutella. I also wanted to shop THE MARKET before heading back to the hotel but all that remains of it now is a pile of rubble and some outer walls. Not at all sure what happened in the 12 months since I've seen it, I only know that it is under reconstruction. For our last meal in Gracias we decided to mix things up and eat at the Chinese restaurant in town. Ordering Chinese food in Spanish was an experience. My stomach, currently readjusting to a Honduran diet, did not allow me to eat much, but the food was good none the less. It did, however, take 5 of us to not even finish a single order. For any future travelers, the serving sizes at this restaurant are mountainous.
Of course the night before we are scheduled to make a 2 1/2 hour trip through the windy, hilly and all dirt roads to La Union, the rain is merciless. The storm was nice to fall asleep to though…
Thursday, August 12, 2010
va-ca-tion
August 11, 2010
vacation: (n) a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel.
Vacation would be the best way to describe my time in Honduras thus far. I woke up yesterday morning and had forgotten what country I was in.
Guancascos, owned by a Dutch woman named Froni, is a beautiful restaurant and hotel down the street from us where we eat all of our meals. We finished breakfast around 10 and wondered around downtown Gracias. The cloudless sky brought on the merciless sun. The heat here is much different than the heat in Michigan or even San Pedro Sula. Humidity levels are low up here in the mountains which makes escaping the heat as easy as stepping into the shade of mango tree. Walking the streets in the midday sun, the temperature wasn't far below 100 degrees. When sheltered from the sun it dropped to the mid 80s.
We all bought new cell phones before lunch. My previous Honduras cell phone had been de-activated after not using it since last July and the charger is also missing. So by the time I bought a new charger, a new chip, and paid someone to install the chip and reactivate my phone, it was cheaper just to buy a new one. So I bought a $15 Samsung phone. It's about as big as an iPod nano but it does exactly what I want it to; it makes phone calls and sends text messages.
We did some more browsing in the stores before retreating out of the heat back up to Guancascos for lunch. It is now my goal to try everything on the menu this week before leaving Gracias. After lunch, dark grey clouds provided relief from the heat of the day. In the rain we rode in trucks up the mountain to visit the Gracias Vida Abundante School. The school is absolutely beautiful. The arrangement of the classrooms, office buildings and the landscaping is a romantic, Honduran picturesque. Of course the backdrop to this K-10 paradise is Mt. Celaque, the highest point in all of Honduras. I won't lie, I am completely jealous of anyone who gets to teach here. Walking distance from the school are about 4 houses we toured for the people staying here to teach. Maggie and Tyler chose house #1 just down the hill from the school. It sits alone surrounded by tropical vegetation and just 100 yards from the river. Laura Beth, Jennifer, Caitlin, and Shelly chose house #4 up the hill from the school near the national park entrance. It was the largest of the houses with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, and 2 living rooms. The inside is painted a bright, sunshine orange, and is by far the nicest house we'd seen.
Satisfied with the housing, we all returned to town for some down time before dinner. For me this mostly consists of reading in the hammock which hangs from the porch of the hotel. The backdrop during dinner time was a thunderstorm over the city which of course called for walking in my new yellow rain boots.
For some reason being lazy pampered yesterday was tiring. I struggled to get out of bed this morning. It was cloudy and therefore cool most of the day today, and by cool I mean around 85 degrees. Before lunch we all had to set up bank accounts here in Gracias. 8 bank accounts took 3 1/2 hours to set up. Bank lobbies here are much more secure than bank lobbies in the U.S. At least 3 armed guards were in the bank at a time. Mostly 2 on the street level, 1 at the top of the stairs guarding the door and 1 inside the bank guarding the other side of the door. Think about it, at a bank in the US ANYTHING could happen at any time. Here, if you tried to pull something you'd probably be shot immediately.
After lunch those teaching in Gracias packed their bags to move into their new homes. Of course they were all ready to leave hours before their ride actually showed up to drive them up the mountain. This DELAY is known as Honduran time. Never count on anything to actually be on time. If someone says they will be there to pick you up in an hour, you will wait for 2. A scheduled meeting starts at least 30 minutes late. In this case we sat on top of suitcases for about 2 hours. Andrea and I stuck around to help load the trucks then said hasta luego so we could get back to some more hammock time.
In the evening we traveled to Los Aguas Thermales del Rio, the private hot springs in Gracias. It may have been the most beautiful and romantic place I have ever seen. Set far outside the city, down the mountainside into a valley is an entirely secluded haven of hot water. The hot water is fed into pools of all different temperatures, each surrounded by tiki torches and beautiful gardens. The romantic mood shifted quickly with a game of "keep it up" and some hand stand contests. Dinner was served in a sheltered picnic area after a couple hours of play. Another lightning storm lit up the sky and we watched as we filled our stomachs.
After being brought back to our hotel my work in Honduras thus far could only be described in one word, vacation.
vacation: (n) a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel.
Vacation would be the best way to describe my time in Honduras thus far. I woke up yesterday morning and had forgotten what country I was in.
Guancascos, owned by a Dutch woman named Froni, is a beautiful restaurant and hotel down the street from us where we eat all of our meals. We finished breakfast around 10 and wondered around downtown Gracias. The cloudless sky brought on the merciless sun. The heat here is much different than the heat in Michigan or even San Pedro Sula. Humidity levels are low up here in the mountains which makes escaping the heat as easy as stepping into the shade of mango tree. Walking the streets in the midday sun, the temperature wasn't far below 100 degrees. When sheltered from the sun it dropped to the mid 80s.
We all bought new cell phones before lunch. My previous Honduras cell phone had been de-activated after not using it since last July and the charger is also missing. So by the time I bought a new charger, a new chip, and paid someone to install the chip and reactivate my phone, it was cheaper just to buy a new one. So I bought a $15 Samsung phone. It's about as big as an iPod nano but it does exactly what I want it to; it makes phone calls and sends text messages.
We did some more browsing in the stores before retreating out of the heat back up to Guancascos for lunch. It is now my goal to try everything on the menu this week before leaving Gracias. After lunch, dark grey clouds provided relief from the heat of the day. In the rain we rode in trucks up the mountain to visit the Gracias Vida Abundante School. The school is absolutely beautiful. The arrangement of the classrooms, office buildings and the landscaping is a romantic, Honduran picturesque. Of course the backdrop to this K-10 paradise is Mt. Celaque, the highest point in all of Honduras. I won't lie, I am completely jealous of anyone who gets to teach here. Walking distance from the school are about 4 houses we toured for the people staying here to teach. Maggie and Tyler chose house #1 just down the hill from the school. It sits alone surrounded by tropical vegetation and just 100 yards from the river. Laura Beth, Jennifer, Caitlin, and Shelly chose house #4 up the hill from the school near the national park entrance. It was the largest of the houses with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, and 2 living rooms. The inside is painted a bright, sunshine orange, and is by far the nicest house we'd seen.
Satisfied with the housing, we all returned to town for some down time before dinner. For me this mostly consists of reading in the hammock which hangs from the porch of the hotel. The backdrop during dinner time was a thunderstorm over the city which of course called for walking in my new yellow rain boots.
For some reason being lazy pampered yesterday was tiring. I struggled to get out of bed this morning. It was cloudy and therefore cool most of the day today, and by cool I mean around 85 degrees. Before lunch we all had to set up bank accounts here in Gracias. 8 bank accounts took 3 1/2 hours to set up. Bank lobbies here are much more secure than bank lobbies in the U.S. At least 3 armed guards were in the bank at a time. Mostly 2 on the street level, 1 at the top of the stairs guarding the door and 1 inside the bank guarding the other side of the door. Think about it, at a bank in the US ANYTHING could happen at any time. Here, if you tried to pull something you'd probably be shot immediately.
After lunch those teaching in Gracias packed their bags to move into their new homes. Of course they were all ready to leave hours before their ride actually showed up to drive them up the mountain. This DELAY is known as Honduran time. Never count on anything to actually be on time. If someone says they will be there to pick you up in an hour, you will wait for 2. A scheduled meeting starts at least 30 minutes late. In this case we sat on top of suitcases for about 2 hours. Andrea and I stuck around to help load the trucks then said hasta luego so we could get back to some more hammock time.
In the evening we traveled to Los Aguas Thermales del Rio, the private hot springs in Gracias. It may have been the most beautiful and romantic place I have ever seen. Set far outside the city, down the mountainside into a valley is an entirely secluded haven of hot water. The hot water is fed into pools of all different temperatures, each surrounded by tiki torches and beautiful gardens. The romantic mood shifted quickly with a game of "keep it up" and some hand stand contests. Dinner was served in a sheltered picnic area after a couple hours of play. Another lightning storm lit up the sky and we watched as we filled our stomachs.
After being brought back to our hotel my work in Honduras thus far could only be described in one word, vacation.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
re-turn
return: (v) to go or come back, as to a former place, position, or state.
Though I had recognized the places, the language and the scenery, it was the smell that brought me back. I've heard before that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. Today the smell of burning garbage, Honduras dirt, and burning diesel brought my memory back to the country I left just over a year ago.
Andrea was the first teacher I met. We were both checking into our flight at the same time, which caused a computer error. She was at the next counter and said hello, recognizing me from my facebook profile picture. Computer error cleared and we proceeded to security. Andrew and I dragged our goodbye through the entire security process, finally saying goodbye once I had made it through the metal detectors and re-gathered my belongings from the x-ray machine. I assure you it was a long, hard and dramatic goodbye, and it took me at least another 30 minutes to stop crying. But I got it all out, so moving on...
While waiting at the terminal Andrea and I were approached by a sales woman for Spirit Airlines offering 3 free flights if you sign up for this and buy that and only travel on these dates, bla bla bla. We politely declined using the entirely truthful excuse of, "We're moving to Honduras... today." She couldn't believe it because she had just talked to another girl who had just told her the same exact story. That's when we met Maggie and her husband Tyler. We all sat separately but not far from each other on both of our flights. Andrea and I talked to Jeremy from Ohio most of the flight, telling him about how awesome Michigan is. Out my window to the right was the sunset and to the left was a giant thunderstorm sitting over a night time city, all in the same window view from 6,000 feet in the air. Our layover in Ft. Lauderdale was extended due to plane delays, which landed us in San Pedro Sula, Honduras around 2:30am eastern time, 12:30am Honduras time. Another smooth flight with a spectacular lightening show over the city as we landed. After immigration, customs and driving to the hotel it was 4:30am Eastern Time before my head hit the pillow.
The next morning we met 3 more teachers for breakfast Caitlin, Jennifer and Shelly. The short walk to the restaurant in the hotel was enough to remind me how intense the heat and humidity of San Pedro Sula is. On that note, we took the rest of the morning to enjoy the pool. Not as refreshing as we hoped since the water was about 80 degrees, but it did the job. We also took full advantage of the waterslides and water mushroom in the play pool. At noon we checked out of the hotel and drove to the airport where we picked up Tabitha, Jake and Laura Beth. Crossing the parking lot of the airport I recognized the dark blue Toyota pickup truck parked in the drive. I ran up to Albin and gave him a great big hug. Patrick was on the passenger side and peeked around to see what was going on. They were dropping of the UMF interns at the airport as we were coming to pick up the rest of the teachers. Everyone had lunch inside, I binged on Wendy's. Not something I would normally do in the states, to be honest I'm not sure why it was so appealing then and I felt like a whale afterward. So with a bloated stomach I boarded the bus along with 9 other teachers to start our journey to Gracias. I started to recognize the smells again. The mixture of dirt and dust from the city and mountain streets, the smell of burning garbage and of course diesel fuel from the bus, is a very Honduran smell. It was the smoothest drive through Honduras I have ever had though with paved roads the ENTIRE way. The heat subsided as we ascended into the mountains. I was mesmerized by the scenery once again and it moved me to considering an extra year in Honduras. As we came around the side of another mountain we could see the black sky ahead with a rainbow in the foreground. We drove right underneath the full arch of colors into a storm of lightning and flash flooding. It wasn't long until we arrived in Gracias. After settling into our hotel, Posada Linca, we walked down the street to Guancascos for dinner. The 10 of us were joined by a handful of staff from the Gracias school. It was close to 11pm before we returned to the Hotel to shower and...
Goodnight
Though I had recognized the places, the language and the scenery, it was the smell that brought me back. I've heard before that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. Today the smell of burning garbage, Honduras dirt, and burning diesel brought my memory back to the country I left just over a year ago.
Andrea was the first teacher I met. We were both checking into our flight at the same time, which caused a computer error. She was at the next counter and said hello, recognizing me from my facebook profile picture. Computer error cleared and we proceeded to security. Andrew and I dragged our goodbye through the entire security process, finally saying goodbye once I had made it through the metal detectors and re-gathered my belongings from the x-ray machine. I assure you it was a long, hard and dramatic goodbye, and it took me at least another 30 minutes to stop crying. But I got it all out, so moving on...
While waiting at the terminal Andrea and I were approached by a sales woman for Spirit Airlines offering 3 free flights if you sign up for this and buy that and only travel on these dates, bla bla bla. We politely declined using the entirely truthful excuse of, "We're moving to Honduras... today." She couldn't believe it because she had just talked to another girl who had just told her the same exact story. That's when we met Maggie and her husband Tyler. We all sat separately but not far from each other on both of our flights. Andrea and I talked to Jeremy from Ohio most of the flight, telling him about how awesome Michigan is. Out my window to the right was the sunset and to the left was a giant thunderstorm sitting over a night time city, all in the same window view from 6,000 feet in the air. Our layover in Ft. Lauderdale was extended due to plane delays, which landed us in San Pedro Sula, Honduras around 2:30am eastern time, 12:30am Honduras time. Another smooth flight with a spectacular lightening show over the city as we landed. After immigration, customs and driving to the hotel it was 4:30am Eastern Time before my head hit the pillow.
The next morning we met 3 more teachers for breakfast Caitlin, Jennifer and Shelly. The short walk to the restaurant in the hotel was enough to remind me how intense the heat and humidity of San Pedro Sula is. On that note, we took the rest of the morning to enjoy the pool. Not as refreshing as we hoped since the water was about 80 degrees, but it did the job. We also took full advantage of the waterslides and water mushroom in the play pool. At noon we checked out of the hotel and drove to the airport where we picked up Tabitha, Jake and Laura Beth. Crossing the parking lot of the airport I recognized the dark blue Toyota pickup truck parked in the drive. I ran up to Albin and gave him a great big hug. Patrick was on the passenger side and peeked around to see what was going on. They were dropping of the UMF interns at the airport as we were coming to pick up the rest of the teachers. Everyone had lunch inside, I binged on Wendy's. Not something I would normally do in the states, to be honest I'm not sure why it was so appealing then and I felt like a whale afterward. So with a bloated stomach I boarded the bus along with 9 other teachers to start our journey to Gracias. I started to recognize the smells again. The mixture of dirt and dust from the city and mountain streets, the smell of burning garbage and of course diesel fuel from the bus, is a very Honduran smell. It was the smoothest drive through Honduras I have ever had though with paved roads the ENTIRE way. The heat subsided as we ascended into the mountains. I was mesmerized by the scenery once again and it moved me to considering an extra year in Honduras. As we came around the side of another mountain we could see the black sky ahead with a rainbow in the foreground. We drove right underneath the full arch of colors into a storm of lightning and flash flooding. It wasn't long until we arrived in Gracias. After settling into our hotel, Posada Linca, we walked down the street to Guancascos for dinner. The 10 of us were joined by a handful of staff from the Gracias school. It was close to 11pm before we returned to the Hotel to shower and...
Goodnight
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