Sunday, November 28, 2010

 

Happy late birthday to my little niece Emma! She doesn’t check my blog as often as she should, so her dad Travis will have to tell her about this shout-out. She is three years old now, crazy, thinking that I’ve now missed two of her birthdays. Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday, which means I will have missed two of her birthdays as well L

 

Just got back from Thanksgiving celebrations and I’m EXHAUSTED. I slept on most of my buses yesterday, which is impossible to do gracefully and is never good sleep because you have to wake up frequently to make sure your stuff is still on the bus. A special thanks to the lady who shared her shoulder with me on that one particularly dusty and noisy bus ride. I was in San Marcos de Colon, the site of one of my favorite Peace Corps friends. We had at least 20 volunteers there! I also brought along a friend of mine who is from El Salvador and I think he enjoyed the gringo craziness of having way too many people in one house. Nonetheless, the food was AMAZING—turkey, pies, breads, casseroles, wine…it was heaven. We ate together outside on her patio with candelight and all shared things we were thankful for. It was a really nice way to spend Thanksgiving, especially because it makes me really evaluated what I am grateful for in this life…

 

1. Good friends and family back in the USA—they never forget me–writing me letters and emails, sending me packages, and some even come visit me!
2. Good friends in Peace Corps—I would never have made it to this point in Honduras without the support of volunteers, some who are already finished, some who are in my training class, and others who have recently come to site. It is so awesome to know that there are people I can call who really get what I am going through and can relate to annoying comments from bolos, comments about me being gorda, or understand how bad the bus rides are
3. Friends in country (and Central America in general)—the people in Camasca and other places I’ve traveled are so welcoming, offering me food and a place to stay, and it’s not something I’ve seen as much in my own country, which is sad.
4. In Honduras—fresh fruits and veggies year-round (HUGE papayas, way too many varieties of bananas), anafres, beautiful scenery, friendly natives, cheap phone calls to the USA, the fact that it is OK to blast reggaeton in any social setting, lack of stress
5. In the USA—supermarkets everywhere, good new music and concerts, my car and paved roads, internet access everywhere, salads and good sandwiches, desserts, lack of piropos and people trying to “casarme” everywhere I go, men who respect me “at the workplace”, efficiency in so many aspects of life

 

Really I am thankful for many more things than that, but that’s what comes to mind.

 

Thanksgiving was spent eating good food and drinking with friends, getting to know other PCVs that are new to country, and just having a great time. San Marcos is a cute town with great weather so it was a short weekend but a fun one.

 

So I’m back in Camasca and not really sure what this week will look like. I have a few more school graduations to attend, and I may go to the hot springs with some high school teachers, we’ll see.

 

Things I also wanted to share with you:

 

I met a really strange French man while waiting for a bus and eating pupusas. He started talking to me in Spanish before realizing I spoke English. He said he knew I wasn’t Honduran because I was wearing glasses. Sounds like a strange observation, but actually kind of true, as few people here wear glasses or contacts. Anyways, I noticed he was strange immediately because he had a bowl and was eating at least 5 avocados with chunks of cucumber and several spices he was carrying around in plastic bags. He looked like he hadn’t bathed or had a haircut in a very long time, and it turns out he is traveling all over Central America on his bike. It could be a cool idea, but it just seemed weird at the time. He didn’t understand why the pupusa lady didn’t want him at her table and I was allowed there (I think it may have something to do with me actually buying food from her…). The night before he had slept at a military camp and now he was going to sleep at the Casa de Cultura, so I guess he doesn’t spend money for hotels. I told him about my site but emphasized that there was nothing to do, so that he wouldn’t ask to come see it (that happens with backpackers sometimes, which can be cool but also weird depending on the person). So it was a strange encounter, but I would say I’ve had much stranger ones.

 

I can’t decide how I feel about my landlord. I think he is a really nice man and wants me to be happy here, but sometimes he just makes me wonder. For instance, sometimes I think the power has gone out in town, which happens quite frequently, and no, it has just gone out in my room….Or the other day, I was in an aldea and had waited forever for a ride, and someone said they had seen my landlord drive by recently, as he has land near this community. I called him and he told me he was in San Pedro Sula…a huge city that is at least 8 hours from this community, so clearly impossible. The woman who I was talking to said that maybe the piece of land he was at was called San Pedro Sula..that is definitely not true, thanks though. Or he’ll tell me for weeks that is going to fix something in my room, I bug him about it, and one night he’ll come knocking at almost 10pm and want to fix it, and realize he’s left an essential piece in another town. Or he told me that his wife had left him, after I hadn’t seen her for weeks, but it turns out she was in another city having a medical procedure done. So all my underwear are super large and stretched out now, thanks to a year of pila washing, and he walked by one time and pointed to a faded pink pair and said he thought those were his. I think that is an insult to both of us, actually. Or how he told me his wife could never cheat on him because how would she wash clothes and cook for other men too, it would be too much work. Oh Camasca.

 

Oh, last funny tidbit. So last week I was at my counterpart Iris’ house and her girls were telling me about how they finally had their final grades, etc. I saw one of the daughters looking at an exam and they told me that it was their English exam. I got a closer look and on the last page, it was a drawing of a yellow-haired white man, with “Rey de Jaripeo” (king of the rodeo) on his shirt. Their teacher had drawn a picture of my sitemate on the exam and they had to identify colors on the picture, in English. That was the exam. I laughed SO SO hard at that. Wouldn’t that be the creepiest thing ever in the USA, if the director of the school drew a picture of the foreign kid in town and had the kids label colors of his outfit? But not here, here it is completely normal.

 

Ok, until next time.