On the outside, poverty is such a romantic, beautiful thing. It makes for the best pictures and playing with the kids can bring you a joy that is only experienced with their true, innocent laughter. Life in poverty is simple. There are far fewer choices and an overall sense of peace that comes with not having. This is what I wanted, the simple life. I had romanticized poverty and the pure joy of living in it, mainly, I believe, due to my one semester I lived in Costa Rica. Four months was enough time to fall in love with the third world without having to deal with the harsh realties of it.
The honeymoon is over and poverty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, I am here to serve and live with the poor, but the things that I love about it are currently being overshadowed by the people and the life I live here. Coming back from my visit to the U.S. has been far more challenging than I first thought it was going to be. I have realized how utterly miserable life can be here sometimes and how bored and sad it makes me.
How many men do I have to see peeing on the side of the road/street/side of my house before it starts to irk me? Seriously, I passed a bus going down from my community a couple of weeks ago. There were about 12 men that had gotten off the bus and they were all peeing in unison. Where in the world am I?
How many times can you watch people throw their trash out the bus window before you want to scream? Honestly, I can’t say much though.... even though I save my trash to throw away at home, I have to burn my trash. That’s right, burn it. All of it. What's better? The side of the road or burnt to ashes?
I am constantly harassed or stared at by Honduran men here. It’s pretty disgusting and makes me hate being here. Unless you see it and experience it on your own, I can’t describe to you what it feels like to be not only a woman in this country, but also a redheaded, blue-eyed gringa. Sometimes I am scared. Is that what I came here for?
The things that used to seem so beautiful are annoying. The simplicity is driving me nuts because of the ignorance and absolute lack of education that comes with the simple life. I can’t talk to anyone here that doesn’t think silly things like the sky is falling or that giving my dog actual dog food will make him want to kill the chickens because it gives him the desires to eat real meat because of the flavor of the dog food.... Or also, that I can’t shower after exercising or some equivalent myth.
PC has these goals for grassroots development, but I don’t know how to even begin to carry those out sometimes. Especially, when the place where I am makes me so sad, lonely, and angry. How do you try and teach some teachers English when their overall level of education is so low? There are so many holes in the system, especially in the gobierno here, it makes it nearly impossible to achieve any tangible results of development.
It’s a love/hate relationship. I love the beauty of this country, but sometimes I hate it so badly, I could scream.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I spent the weekend in Copan to celebrate my birthday and enjoy a relaxing weekend in the beautiful West of Honduras.
Enjoy some pictures!!
Enjoy some pictures!!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Cafelandia
I have never really put that much thought into that black cup of hot goodness that I drink most every day. Yes, I’ve seen the coffee plants before (first in Costa Rica) and I knew that coffee picking season was November to February, but living here in Cafelandia (coffee land) has caused me to think very seriously about this drink that people all over the world partake on a daily basis, and I imagine, mostly without giving thought to it.
Yesterday on my bus ride home from Marcala, I saw things that made me really cherish that cup of coffee I drank this morning. I’m assuming that most of you don’t really understand how coffee grows, what it looks like, nor the process that it goes through to make it to your coffee grinder. Let me explain it to you so that you can better grasp the process and the way of life in Cafelandia.
Coffee grows on a large bush with beautiful, green leaves. The beans grow along the branches of the plant turning from green to red when they become ripe. Coffee is grown in the shade, because if it is not, the plants will only last about 5 years. So in between the rows of coffee bushes, there are other types of trees, usually banana trees here, that produce a taller shade for the precious coffee plants. When the beans start to turn red, the first cosecha (harvest) of the beans is made. Usually there are about 3 cosechas of coffee during the 4 month period. There are no machines to pick coffee beans, only bare, human hands. So during this time of year, the coffee farm owners go into all the poor pueblos of the mountains to collect men, women, and children of all sizes and ages to go work in the fields for the day. They load up in the backs of the trucks and everyone brings their own machete and usually a little backpack with food and water for lunch. During this time of year, literally whole families spend every day in the fields picking coffee all day long for an average of $5 a day and that’s if they fill a whole large sack-full of beans.
shade-grown.
I had a conversation with this whole thing with a friend and it’s so hard because these children have to work. Their families need them to work to help feed everyone, but at the same time it’s so unfair that this is their lives and that the lack of development causes these little kids to have to work in the fields every day and because of that, they will probably never escape the same cycle of poverty because they won’t be able to finish school, because they have to do manual labor in order to help feed their family.
My heart broke as I saw countless children of 5, 6, and 7 years old carrying machetes and walking barefoot out of the cold mountain fields on my 5:00 bus ride home, the day just ending for them. Then all the sacks of coffee are loaded onto oxen-driven carts to bring all the coffee out to the main roads where it is loaded into pick-ups or other larger trucks. The trucks then take the coffee to various places to sell it to other people who then will do the other parts of the coffee-making process. At these places, the coffee is taken out of the large 50 pound sacks and is spread out across a bed of concrete to dry. I’m not exactly sure how long this takes or really what the exact science to it is, but that’s how it works. These same trucks then return the people back to their villages to get a good night’s rest in order to do it all again tomorrow.
coffee up close while it's drying out.
I’m also not quite sure about the next step either, but the bean is then removed from the dried outer shell somehow. Then all the beans are roasted and toasted. My host family does theirs by hand over their fogon (wood-burning stove), but most of the larger coffee cooperativos does their roasting on a larger scale. Then the coffee is ground if that’s how you like it, or just packaged into bags in whole beans (how I buy it).
This is where the coffee is dried.
and then roasted.
I know it’s hard for you to think about these things when you buy your $4 or more coffee from Starbucks in the mornings, but I encourage you to think about where that comes from and all the countless little hands that labored to bring you that wonderful sabor (taste). Growing, picking, roasting, and packing café is a way of life here that allows these people to survive from one day to the next, and it is very hard labor that I don’t think I could bring myself to do. When you buy coffee, find some that is not from a large cooperation that probably pays their children even less than the farm-owners here. Find some that is locally grown or that is fairly traded. Make smart choices when buying your things. I am living with and among the people that are affected by your everyday choices as simple as the cup of coffee you drink. Yes, it might cost you an extra dollar, but I promise it’s worth it.
Yesterday on my bus ride home from Marcala, I saw things that made me really cherish that cup of coffee I drank this morning. I’m assuming that most of you don’t really understand how coffee grows, what it looks like, nor the process that it goes through to make it to your coffee grinder. Let me explain it to you so that you can better grasp the process and the way of life in Cafelandia.
Coffee grows on a large bush with beautiful, green leaves. The beans grow along the branches of the plant turning from green to red when they become ripe. Coffee is grown in the shade, because if it is not, the plants will only last about 5 years. So in between the rows of coffee bushes, there are other types of trees, usually banana trees here, that produce a taller shade for the precious coffee plants. When the beans start to turn red, the first cosecha (harvest) of the beans is made. Usually there are about 3 cosechas of coffee during the 4 month period. There are no machines to pick coffee beans, only bare, human hands. So during this time of year, the coffee farm owners go into all the poor pueblos of the mountains to collect men, women, and children of all sizes and ages to go work in the fields for the day. They load up in the backs of the trucks and everyone brings their own machete and usually a little backpack with food and water for lunch. During this time of year, literally whole families spend every day in the fields picking coffee all day long for an average of $5 a day and that’s if they fill a whole large sack-full of beans.
shade-grown.
I had a conversation with this whole thing with a friend and it’s so hard because these children have to work. Their families need them to work to help feed everyone, but at the same time it’s so unfair that this is their lives and that the lack of development causes these little kids to have to work in the fields every day and because of that, they will probably never escape the same cycle of poverty because they won’t be able to finish school, because they have to do manual labor in order to help feed their family.
My heart broke as I saw countless children of 5, 6, and 7 years old carrying machetes and walking barefoot out of the cold mountain fields on my 5:00 bus ride home, the day just ending for them. Then all the sacks of coffee are loaded onto oxen-driven carts to bring all the coffee out to the main roads where it is loaded into pick-ups or other larger trucks. The trucks then take the coffee to various places to sell it to other people who then will do the other parts of the coffee-making process. At these places, the coffee is taken out of the large 50 pound sacks and is spread out across a bed of concrete to dry. I’m not exactly sure how long this takes or really what the exact science to it is, but that’s how it works. These same trucks then return the people back to their villages to get a good night’s rest in order to do it all again tomorrow.
coffee up close while it's drying out.
I’m also not quite sure about the next step either, but the bean is then removed from the dried outer shell somehow. Then all the beans are roasted and toasted. My host family does theirs by hand over their fogon (wood-burning stove), but most of the larger coffee cooperativos does their roasting on a larger scale. Then the coffee is ground if that’s how you like it, or just packaged into bags in whole beans (how I buy it).
This is where the coffee is dried.
and then roasted.
I know it’s hard for you to think about these things when you buy your $4 or more coffee from Starbucks in the mornings, but I encourage you to think about where that comes from and all the countless little hands that labored to bring you that wonderful sabor (taste). Growing, picking, roasting, and packing café is a way of life here that allows these people to survive from one day to the next, and it is very hard labor that I don’t think I could bring myself to do. When you buy coffee, find some that is not from a large cooperation that probably pays their children even less than the farm-owners here. Find some that is locally grown or that is fairly traded. Make smart choices when buying your things. I am living with and among the people that are affected by your everyday choices as simple as the cup of coffee you drink. Yes, it might cost you an extra dollar, but I promise it’s worth it.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
back to the Depths, Honduras that is.
I know that it has been cold in the US the past couple of weeks, but you should be thankful for the little invention known as a heater. Over the past week, it has been in the 40’s here (quite freezing for a Central American country) and several days without electricity. Forty degrees without heat and non-insulated windows (some that have panes missing) is miserable. The past 3 days I have been camped out in my 20 degree Mountain Hardware sleeping bag, and I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I had that. I wish I had a picture to show you of what I have looked like the past few days: dressed from head to toe with my Underarmour winter gear, wool socks, a scarf around my head, a fleece, and a hoodie on top of that. Basically, I’ve felt like I was camping out in the mountains, only, this is my home and it’s been that cold inside. I debated bringing Rambo in the bed with me so that I could have a little body warmth, but he’s gotten huge and typically smells like the latest animal poop that he’s rolled around in, so I decided against that and resorted to turning on my hairdryer at intervals during the night to warm up. PC sent me a heater today though, so tonight I will finally sleep a little warmer.
Being home for Christmas was wonderful. I was extremely nervous about the whole thing, not knowing what to expect or how it would feel to be home, but I am glad I went home. The week started with the surprise of the century. My grandparents had no clue that I was coming home, so all the family gathered together for Christmas Eve breakfast and I walked in to surprise my grandparents. They were so shocked! Immediately, there were screams of joy and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house because we were all crying so hard. I’m so glad that I got to see you, Nannie and Papaw. I got to visit lots of friends and family, had parties, shared gifts, and enjoyed all my favorite foods I had been missing. I didn’t ever get to eat Chic-fil-a though. Such a travesty. I spent New Year’s in Nashville and got to spend time with friends from college, and as crazy as it sounds, it felt like I hadn’t been gone for a second. Home is a good feeling, a different warmth that I don’t have here in Honduras. I miss that.
The whole trip was great and I encountered little culture shock or awkward social circumstances, which is far better than I was expecting. A few times I had to take a step back so as to not freak out about all the stuff, but overall, I felt like I dealt with it pretty well. I guess that I had been gone away from the US for long enough to really appreciate all the things that I was missing, instead of being angry and bitter because of all the haves when I and all the people I live with and among have so very little in Honduras. It was a little weird to come back here though, to my little pueblo. I have realized how remote I am and how much I miss some of life’s modern conveniences. The weather situation hasn’t helped much either and I haven’t had much ganas de leave the house (to feel like). I hope that things will get better in the next few weeks though and school will start in February, so I won’t be so bored. Meanwhile, I am reading the new books I got and watching new DVDs and TV series to occupy my time.
I still haven’t washed any clothes. The water’s too cold. Oh well.
My birthday is in 11 days (in case you forgot, I like mail. See side bar for my address), and the plan is to go to Copán for the weekend. I’m very excited and this will be one of the first tourist-ish things I have done since I came to Honduras. Google Copán Ruins. :)
Happy New Year to everyone. I hope yours is as great as mine has begun. I’m looking forward to a great year.
Being home for Christmas was wonderful. I was extremely nervous about the whole thing, not knowing what to expect or how it would feel to be home, but I am glad I went home. The week started with the surprise of the century. My grandparents had no clue that I was coming home, so all the family gathered together for Christmas Eve breakfast and I walked in to surprise my grandparents. They were so shocked! Immediately, there were screams of joy and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house because we were all crying so hard. I’m so glad that I got to see you, Nannie and Papaw. I got to visit lots of friends and family, had parties, shared gifts, and enjoyed all my favorite foods I had been missing. I didn’t ever get to eat Chic-fil-a though. Such a travesty. I spent New Year’s in Nashville and got to spend time with friends from college, and as crazy as it sounds, it felt like I hadn’t been gone for a second. Home is a good feeling, a different warmth that I don’t have here in Honduras. I miss that.
The whole trip was great and I encountered little culture shock or awkward social circumstances, which is far better than I was expecting. A few times I had to take a step back so as to not freak out about all the stuff, but overall, I felt like I dealt with it pretty well. I guess that I had been gone away from the US for long enough to really appreciate all the things that I was missing, instead of being angry and bitter because of all the haves when I and all the people I live with and among have so very little in Honduras. It was a little weird to come back here though, to my little pueblo. I have realized how remote I am and how much I miss some of life’s modern conveniences. The weather situation hasn’t helped much either and I haven’t had much ganas de leave the house (to feel like). I hope that things will get better in the next few weeks though and school will start in February, so I won’t be so bored. Meanwhile, I am reading the new books I got and watching new DVDs and TV series to occupy my time.
I still haven’t washed any clothes. The water’s too cold. Oh well.
My birthday is in 11 days (in case you forgot, I like mail. See side bar for my address), and the plan is to go to Copán for the weekend. I’m very excited and this will be one of the first tourist-ish things I have done since I came to Honduras. Google Copán Ruins. :)
Happy New Year to everyone. I hope yours is as great as mine has begun. I’m looking forward to a great year.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Some normal things in my life:
-coffee, coffee, coffee
-salsa, bachata, Latin music
-piropos (catcalls: whistles, hisses, “I love you, baby”)
-pigs on a leash
-boiling water
-PC sleepovers with 15+ people in the floor
-random people selling random stuff
-$.79 beers
-slightly sunburned nose
-Como se mata el gusano the morning after
-baleadas
-long bus rides
-bolos (drunks)
-over religious, under spiritual Christians
-earplugs
-rooster crows
-dogs barking
-cheque
-the question, “you only have one sister?” in disbelief
-milk in a bag
-having a maid
-reading
-hair in a pony tail
-robberies
-beautiful sunsets/sunrises
-beans and tortillas
-dirt roads
-early bedtimes
-Spanglish
-have I mentioned coffee?
-Tigo text messages
-lack of saldo
-poor Spanish grammar (on the part of the Hondurans)
-good hugs from friends
-smelly shoes
-bugs
-cuts, bites, scrapes, blisters, pila wounds, scabs
-little surprises
-a sense of peace and calmness
-farmer’s tan
What else could I ask for? I know these things may not seem normal to you, but that's my life. Anything outside of the norm has become the norm and the norm that once was, is now only an unexpected sighting or event. It makes you appreciate life and all it's little quarks a little more though. I definitely do.
some pictures for you:
-salsa, bachata, Latin music
-piropos (catcalls: whistles, hisses, “I love you, baby”)
-pigs on a leash
-boiling water
-PC sleepovers with 15+ people in the floor
-random people selling random stuff
-$.79 beers
-slightly sunburned nose
-Como se mata el gusano the morning after
-baleadas
-long bus rides
-bolos (drunks)
-over religious, under spiritual Christians
-earplugs
-rooster crows
-dogs barking
-cheque
-the question, “you only have one sister?” in disbelief
-milk in a bag
-having a maid
-reading
-hair in a pony tail
-robberies
-beautiful sunsets/sunrises
-beans and tortillas
-dirt roads
-early bedtimes
-Spanglish
-have I mentioned coffee?
-Tigo text messages
-lack of saldo
-poor Spanish grammar (on the part of the Hondurans)
-good hugs from friends
-smelly shoes
-bugs
-cuts, bites, scrapes, blisters, pila wounds, scabs
-little surprises
-a sense of peace and calmness
-farmer’s tan
What else could I ask for? I know these things may not seem normal to you, but that's my life. Anything outside of the norm has become the norm and the norm that once was, is now only an unexpected sighting or event. It makes you appreciate life and all it's little quarks a little more though. I definitely do.
some pictures for you:
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sounds of Honduras
I really wish that I had some sort of sound recording device that I could carry around with me so that you could hear the sounds of my life here. Sounds, music, noise, laughter are things that can’t be described by words typed on my computer screen, yet it is these distinct sounds of Honduras, of my little pueblo, that make my life so interesting here.
From bus rides with vendedores selling their pizza, pizza diez lempiras, or freco, freco, freco, or the like, to the busy market streets, there are always voices selling, bargaining, piropo-ing (hitting on), or just saludando-ing (saying hello or the typical “buenas”) everywhere you go in this country. There are also the non-human sounds, and needless to say, like many other PCV’s I sleep with earplugs on a nightly basis. Dogs are abundant and so are their barks or even their yelps when they encounter a dog more bravo than the next who guards their territory with a bite. There is a young calf tied up across the street from my house. He moos a lot, but not a normal moo, because he hasn’t quite mastered it yet and it’s an interesting one at best. Chickens are also quite the novelty here and pretty much every family is a collector, including my new neighbor who just brought in about 10 new baby pollitos (chicks) to add to her growing collection. I can almost guarantee that if you talk to me on the phone, you are bound to hear at least one rooster crow, and I’m almost willing to place money on that. The most popular noise this week has been the cuetes (fireworks/crackers).
Hondurans begin celebrating Christmas on December 1st with a nightly event called Posadas. The children go to the chosen house of the evening to knock on the door like Mary and Joseph did looking for room in the inn. They sing Christmas carols in the house and are fed and are thankfully turned away like poor Maria y Josue. I say thankfully because last night’s posada was at my neighbor’s house and this posada brought a slew full of strange men and children to my front porch (where there is lots of room) while the women and other children were singing and eating inside. If Doña Iris would have had room in her inn last night, I don’t know that I would have gotten any sleep because of all the snoring men and laughter of little kids. Tonight there are just tons of firecrackers though and a few bolos (drunks) at the cantina behind my house. I wonder whose inn the kids are trying tonight.
The noises vary from one moment to the next and are sometimes even replaced with an eerie silence that fills the wind-blown streets of my mountain town during the lunch hour. During this time, husbands leave the fields to go home for a warm meal and a side of tortillas, leaving the outdoors abandoned and still. I took a walk around the town after my own lunch today (a yummy pasta and a neatly fried skinless, boneless chicken breast. Thank you, Jesus! [yes, I’m finally living and cooking on my own]) and the abandoned silence was enough to give me chills in the warm-sun day. This town is mysterious in so many ways and the empty, noise-less streets in this generally loud country always takes me back a step. Today the sun was warm, but there was a cool breeze, and I felt amazing in a sweatshirt, jeans, and flip flops. The mountains were so green against the beautiful, bright day and I could see to El Salvador and for whatever reason, today I felt slightly less awkward than I normally do walking around the dirt roads of my neighborhood, greeting everyone I passed (as requested/suggested by my counterparts).
After months of waiting, I finally got all moved into my new, giant house yesterday. What I am about to describe is atypical and does not have anything in common with the normal Peace Corps experience or Honduran life. My white, two-story, cement house is going to become home over the next two years. Yes, that’s right, two-story, 6 bedroom, two bath and complete with a balcony (actually two balconies). This house doesn’t fit in with the neighbors. It’s like one of those neighborhoods where all the houses are thess tutor-style homes and then there’s this big, Victorian one right in the mix, except here all the houses are adobe and only a few have indoor plumbing while mine is set up for hot, running water (and I’m not talking about from an electraducha), has tiled floors, a real roof, rooms for days, and you can spot it from the bus stop without a challenge. The only problem is that on my Peace Corps budget, I will never be able to afford the furniture or acquire enough volunteer hammy-downs to fill even the downstairs. I was, however, able to find some cement blocks and some scrap tongue-and-groove wood leftover from the techo (ceiling) construction to build two sets of shelves to put my books and clothes on. The upstairs balcony with the view of the mountains is amazing and stretches across the length of the front of the house. I’m trying to figure out a way to get my hammock up out there so I can have a place to read and relax while enjoying the afternoon sun that warms the porch. So you might wonder how much is this lavish home costing me and how I can afford it with my measly salary. Well, utilities and water and rent add up to a grand total of $47 a month, so that’s how.
I do have to say that the best part of the new house is having the ability to cook again. I can eat what I want, when I want, and I made chocolate oatmeal cookies and sweet tea today just because I could and ate an apple for dinner instead of the normal fried egg, refried beans, fried plantains, cheese, and tortillas just because I wanted to. Having my own independence again is already doing so much for my sanity. Five months without having to do a single thing for myself other than bathe or make many important decisions has seemed like a life-time for the independent, self-sufficient woman that I normally am or maybe used to be. I am looking forward to trying new recipes, having people over for dinner, and perfecting the Honduran coffee brewing style process in my own new home.
I cannot believe that Christmas is a mere 18 days away! Where does the time go? I have been gone from home for more than 5 months. Incredible. Less than 22 months to go. Ha!
Oh and I hear Bama won the SEC Championship. Come on, Florida! I was counting on you! I guess I’ll have to root for Alabama against Texas though even as much as the crimson and white go against my every grain. I’ve still yet to watch a football game this season, or at least a complete one. I did try on Thanksgiving, but it was just too long and I didn’t really care enough about the teams that were playing. I am looking forward to getting the Auburn/Alabama game on DVD from my Papaw. I hear Auburn almost won. :)
I hope you all are getting as much in the spirit of the season as I am. I can say that I am the happiest I have been in a long while and I cannot wait for Christmas. :)
My Christmas requests:
-art supplies of all kinds (markers, construction paper, paint, colored pencils, scissors)
-any good book you’ve read lately. read it, then pass it my way.
-new movies/music
-iTunes gift cards
-lotion/smell goods (but make sure to send it in plastic baggies)
-light-weight, non-breakable picture frames (for 4x6 fotos)
-the new international Kindle :) (only for any big spenders out there!)
-a mandolin
ESPECIALLY WANTED:
-cards, pictures, letters, love notes
(These only cost $.98 so surely you can spare that! This is the cheapest fix to making my day. I can assure you that. It’s not silly and it always means the most to me to get these precious cards/letters/notes of encouragement.)
From bus rides with vendedores selling their pizza, pizza diez lempiras, or freco, freco, freco, or the like, to the busy market streets, there are always voices selling, bargaining, piropo-ing (hitting on), or just saludando-ing (saying hello or the typical “buenas”) everywhere you go in this country. There are also the non-human sounds, and needless to say, like many other PCV’s I sleep with earplugs on a nightly basis. Dogs are abundant and so are their barks or even their yelps when they encounter a dog more bravo than the next who guards their territory with a bite. There is a young calf tied up across the street from my house. He moos a lot, but not a normal moo, because he hasn’t quite mastered it yet and it’s an interesting one at best. Chickens are also quite the novelty here and pretty much every family is a collector, including my new neighbor who just brought in about 10 new baby pollitos (chicks) to add to her growing collection. I can almost guarantee that if you talk to me on the phone, you are bound to hear at least one rooster crow, and I’m almost willing to place money on that. The most popular noise this week has been the cuetes (fireworks/crackers).
Hondurans begin celebrating Christmas on December 1st with a nightly event called Posadas. The children go to the chosen house of the evening to knock on the door like Mary and Joseph did looking for room in the inn. They sing Christmas carols in the house and are fed and are thankfully turned away like poor Maria y Josue. I say thankfully because last night’s posada was at my neighbor’s house and this posada brought a slew full of strange men and children to my front porch (where there is lots of room) while the women and other children were singing and eating inside. If Doña Iris would have had room in her inn last night, I don’t know that I would have gotten any sleep because of all the snoring men and laughter of little kids. Tonight there are just tons of firecrackers though and a few bolos (drunks) at the cantina behind my house. I wonder whose inn the kids are trying tonight.
The noises vary from one moment to the next and are sometimes even replaced with an eerie silence that fills the wind-blown streets of my mountain town during the lunch hour. During this time, husbands leave the fields to go home for a warm meal and a side of tortillas, leaving the outdoors abandoned and still. I took a walk around the town after my own lunch today (a yummy pasta and a neatly fried skinless, boneless chicken breast. Thank you, Jesus! [yes, I’m finally living and cooking on my own]) and the abandoned silence was enough to give me chills in the warm-sun day. This town is mysterious in so many ways and the empty, noise-less streets in this generally loud country always takes me back a step. Today the sun was warm, but there was a cool breeze, and I felt amazing in a sweatshirt, jeans, and flip flops. The mountains were so green against the beautiful, bright day and I could see to El Salvador and for whatever reason, today I felt slightly less awkward than I normally do walking around the dirt roads of my neighborhood, greeting everyone I passed (as requested/suggested by my counterparts).
After months of waiting, I finally got all moved into my new, giant house yesterday. What I am about to describe is atypical and does not have anything in common with the normal Peace Corps experience or Honduran life. My white, two-story, cement house is going to become home over the next two years. Yes, that’s right, two-story, 6 bedroom, two bath and complete with a balcony (actually two balconies). This house doesn’t fit in with the neighbors. It’s like one of those neighborhoods where all the houses are thess tutor-style homes and then there’s this big, Victorian one right in the mix, except here all the houses are adobe and only a few have indoor plumbing while mine is set up for hot, running water (and I’m not talking about from an electraducha), has tiled floors, a real roof, rooms for days, and you can spot it from the bus stop without a challenge. The only problem is that on my Peace Corps budget, I will never be able to afford the furniture or acquire enough volunteer hammy-downs to fill even the downstairs. I was, however, able to find some cement blocks and some scrap tongue-and-groove wood leftover from the techo (ceiling) construction to build two sets of shelves to put my books and clothes on. The upstairs balcony with the view of the mountains is amazing and stretches across the length of the front of the house. I’m trying to figure out a way to get my hammock up out there so I can have a place to read and relax while enjoying the afternoon sun that warms the porch. So you might wonder how much is this lavish home costing me and how I can afford it with my measly salary. Well, utilities and water and rent add up to a grand total of $47 a month, so that’s how.
I do have to say that the best part of the new house is having the ability to cook again. I can eat what I want, when I want, and I made chocolate oatmeal cookies and sweet tea today just because I could and ate an apple for dinner instead of the normal fried egg, refried beans, fried plantains, cheese, and tortillas just because I wanted to. Having my own independence again is already doing so much for my sanity. Five months without having to do a single thing for myself other than bathe or make many important decisions has seemed like a life-time for the independent, self-sufficient woman that I normally am or maybe used to be. I am looking forward to trying new recipes, having people over for dinner, and perfecting the Honduran coffee brewing style process in my own new home.
I cannot believe that Christmas is a mere 18 days away! Where does the time go? I have been gone from home for more than 5 months. Incredible. Less than 22 months to go. Ha!
Oh and I hear Bama won the SEC Championship. Come on, Florida! I was counting on you! I guess I’ll have to root for Alabama against Texas though even as much as the crimson and white go against my every grain. I’ve still yet to watch a football game this season, or at least a complete one. I did try on Thanksgiving, but it was just too long and I didn’t really care enough about the teams that were playing. I am looking forward to getting the Auburn/Alabama game on DVD from my Papaw. I hear Auburn almost won. :)
I hope you all are getting as much in the spirit of the season as I am. I can say that I am the happiest I have been in a long while and I cannot wait for Christmas. :)
My Christmas requests:
-art supplies of all kinds (markers, construction paper, paint, colored pencils, scissors)
-any good book you’ve read lately. read it, then pass it my way.
-new movies/music
-iTunes gift cards
-lotion/smell goods (but make sure to send it in plastic baggies)
-light-weight, non-breakable picture frames (for 4x6 fotos)
-the new international Kindle :) (only for any big spenders out there!)
-a mandolin
ESPECIALLY WANTED:
-cards, pictures, letters, love notes
(These only cost $.98 so surely you can spare that! This is the cheapest fix to making my day. I can assure you that. It’s not silly and it always means the most to me to get these precious cards/letters/notes of encouragement.)
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