Sitting on a bus for the 1,000th time in a year

I tried to figure out how many hours of my service are wasted by having to travel everywhere via busses driving on the shittiest roads in Central America. I didn’t used to mind riding on busses; but when they are hot, crowded, loud, smelly and full of salesman/preachers, I lose it. Not only is there no limit to how many people they will put on a bus, there is no set “Stop Schedule”- meaning they might stop 30 times on one trip.  

You think after some time here you would get used to the busses, as you do with most foreign experiences, but I have actually had the inverse reaction to them. The longer I have been here, and the more bus rides I go on, the more hatred boils up in me when I think about having to sit on a bus for more than an hour. Considering I live 1.5 hours away from the next closest volunteer, I frequently experience this bus rage. 

It is not like a nice safe air plane where you can take a sleeping pill and wake up in your destination... no.  With all of the stops you make along the way, you have to constantly keep one eye on your bag and on the person sitting/standing next to you, in case their fingers get a little sticky. Bus robberies are far too common here. You would think because of these robberies companies would change their practice, but come on... that would make too much sense. So, I am constantly trying new/safer routes on bumpy dirty roads hoping to keep 500 Lempira fortune (aka $25) that I travel with. 

Every volunteer you meet has some crazy story that happened on a bus ride. To classify a story as “crazy” it must include more than just: breast feeding, vomiting, overcrowding,  strange salesmen, or clowns. It really has to be out of the blue to even warrant a re-telling. My crazy story (one of a few I have now accrued, because of my excessively long bus trips) also happened to be the best bus ride I have ever been on. And it goes like this:

One Friday afternoon I was heading to my friend’s house over the mountain for a “burger night.” I worked a full day and decided to leave on the 4:30pm bus, far later than I normally leave, but since he only lived an hour and a half away I thought I would fine time wise. I left my house at 4pm to walk 5 minutes to the bus stop just to make sure I could get a seat on the bus. When I showed up to the bus office I saw a huge crowd. I thought, “Duh! Idiot! It is coffee season on a Friday afternoon! Of course there is a crowd.” 

Coffee season means that a TON of migrant workers make there way to the mountains during the week to cut coffee... very lucrative. So I stood “in line” to get on the bus. I say “in line” because Hondurans don’t line up, they crowd, push and butt to get to the front of the mass. I had pretty good placement and thought my chances were good to make it onto the bus. 

Then, they opened the doors and people who already had tickets could get on first. Crap no ticket. But I could still jockey for position with all the un-ticketed. Just then, a man who was clearly intoxicated, thought he could somehow sneak past the ticket collector in the bus doorway... foolish. After his entrance was denied he uttered some hmm less than friendly words to the ticket collector/attendant. The bus attendant was a bit displeased with the gentleman’s language and decided to kick him in the chest to get him away from the bus. The kind gentleman responded with a wild punch directed at the attendant. So the the attendant delivered another kick to the face, which made the gentleman step back. The attendant decided that it was best if he went in the office so he and the kind gentleman could cool off. 

Lucky for me, the gentleman had surfaced just to my left with and empty bottle in his hand. He smashed the bottle on the wall next to us and decided to look for the attendant to “talk to him again”. The attendant had come back outside and was immediately spotted by the bottle wielding gentleman. A foot race down the main road ensued. When the attendant had made it a few blocks in mere moments the gentleman, bottle in hand, turned back to the crowd. It was at that moment I decided to leave. I thought I can just hitch a ride over the mountain. Hitch-hiking is a common practice here in Honduras, and I only use it as a means of transportation in rare situations. But, when I do I catch them I  stand in front of the police office and the officers normally help me and instill some fear into the driver.

 I was having no luck and at this point it was nearing 5pm, I had almost thrown in the towel. Just then, the bus pulled up and stopped for me to get on. I hopped right on, bidding my cop friend farewell, and we were off. The door no sooner closed behind me than I realized how FULL this bus actually was. This Greyhound type bus had every seat filled, along with people standing up and down the entirety of the isle. So, I did what I could and took a seat on the floor next to the driver. The driver and the new attendant (he replaced the one involved in the altercation) were extremely nice and not in an overtly creepy way, which is normal. We talked about the work I was doing here, how long they had been working for the bus company (the driver for 30 years!), food in Ocotepeque, roads in Central America, and anything else that came to mind. It was cool outside because it had just rained, and no one was on the roads, so the driving conditions were perfect... for Honduran standards. I had a bird’s-eye view of the road, something that I had never seen before, giving me awesome perspective on the Ocotepeque valley. And best of all I DIDN’T PAY for the the ride! I took my money out but the attendant refused to accept it. They dropped me off at the entrance to my friend’s town and bid me adieu. Soon, I was eating a delicious cheeseburger recounting my harrowing tale to my fellow volunteers.

It went from one of the craziest moments I have witnessed in Honduras, to the best bus ride of my service. Every time I hop on a bus I hope to see that driver and attendant combo but have yet to find them again. 

Side Note- 90% of my blogs, written or yet to be written, were concocted on a bus. 

dos mill once

A few days before New Years Eve Taryn, Adam, and I set off to Utila, the closest of the Bay Islands just off the North Coast of Honduras. Our traveling party to the Island was supposed to be larger but a small, little blizzard hit the east coast of the US delaying/ canceling some of our visitors. As soon as we arrived Taryn and I set off to scuba class, playing catch up with our class. Taryn and I had both taken all of the classroom section of the Open Water Certification but none of the actual dives in the ocean. So, we had to retake/relearn the course to be fully and properly certified. You would think with having taken the course previously we would not answer any questions incorrectly, yet we managed to prove our incompetence to the class by answering questions incorrectly in front of everyone, more than once. Lucky for us our two instructors loved to point out when we did something totally wrong, thanks Juicy and Morgan. We spent the first few days either in the classroom, in the water or in a bar; definitely an entertaining way to spend my first real vacation in Honduras. Without fail Taryn would manage to crack me up daily- leading to excessive air usage and a large quantity of salt water swallowed, another opportunity for the instructors to take jabs at us, but it was all in good fun.

When I arrived I went through a strange culture shock, I was just another face in the crowd, a crowd of white faces (though I was definitely still the whitest). Along with this initial shock I quickly realized that I had absolutely no idea how to interact with them! For the last year the only people I have spoken to were Hondurans, other PCVs, or missionaries. Being thrown into a population of traveling 20 something’s was actually stressful. During conversations I would think, “What is happening in the US? What can I talk about?” I legitimately used the iPad as a conversation topic, a definite low point! But, I think I bounced back drawing on some perennial topics like football, where they had been traveling, and celebrities in rehab. Classics.

So 4/5 of our way through our certification it was time for New Years Eve. Our night started out with delicious bbq, followed by a rousing game of Big Booty, then we set out for the bars, threw some swimming in there, and finished up with dancing until 6am. It all seemed like a great idea, that was until the next morning when we had to wake up, get on a rocky boat, and scuba dive. Surprisingly, I felt alright (for a while at least) whereas my compañera had to be coerced onto the boat by fellow classmates and our instructors.  Because the power’s that be wanted to test our commitment to becoming certified scuba divers, the ocean was atypically choppy, making it impossible to stand and exacerbating any ‘symptoms’ we may have been feeling. In the end, the dive turned out well and left Taryn and me feeling invigorated.

As soon as the festivities were over everyone was ready leave the island, everyone except for me, I hadn’t had my fill of scuba diving! With a few extra days left of my vacation time I decided to become an Advanced Open Water Diver. So as everyone set off to the mainland, I was swimming with Moray Eels, Spotted Eagle Rays, Sea Cucumbers, and Porcupine Fish. Definitely the right decision.

As far as New Years Resolutions go mine changed pre and post trip. I am a little apprehensive to post them online because that makes me even more responsible to accomplishing them, but here goes nothing:

1. To be more creative
2. To run to El Salvador
3. To finish all my current projects
4. To be a better daughter
5. Follow my true north

(oh yeah and lose 10 pounds, quit smoking, run a marathon, fall in love, learn something new, spend more time with my family, quit drinking, get out of debt, get organized, and travel… any that I am missing?)

I hope you all have had a wonderful start to 2011 and that your year is prosperous and fulfilling!

Christmas in Copan

This year I had a very challenging time getting into the holiday spirit leading up to Christmas. It was the first time that I had spent all of December in a hot city, and my first Christmas without family. I just sat thinking that there was not even the slightest possibility that I would see a snow flake. I tried tricking myself by constantly listening to Christmas songs and watching Love Actually over and over. Mariah nor Hugh Grant could kick the Grinch out of me. Finally a two-day bake-a-thon with Meredith brought in back my Christmas cheer, I think it was induced by consuming my weight in sugar and butter.

So, with my ever-so-slight but still existent Christmas spirit, I set off for Santa Rosa de Copan. Eight or so volunteers all met up in the metropolis of the west to exchange gifts and eat an amazing dinner together.

On Christmas Eve we held our white elephant gift exchange, which was filled with holiday classics like- machetes, fireworks, moonshine, and epi-pens. Then, in true Honduran tradition, we took to the streets to light off fireworks for about 4 hours. At first the fireworks were beautiful and seemed like a great tradition to have, and then soon felt like we were in a war-zone, with bangs and flashes coming from every direction.

Christmas morning greeted us with gloomy overcast skies with the threat of rain. We decided that a walk around town was the best way to see how families traditional celebrated. We found at least two people painting their houses, people playing in the piles of newspaper- left from the fireworks, and a select few going to church, not what we were expecting. Kat, Taryn, and I were enticed to church with the familiar sounds of Christmas carols and decided to stay listening to the service and the songs. In the early evening we ate a delicious dinner of turkey, mashed potatoes, the best multi-grain rolls I have ever had, bean salad, and more Christmas cookies.

It was surprisingly the most relaxed, laid-back Christmas I have ever had, and great alternative to going back to the USA.

Turkey Bowl 2010

I know Thanksgiving was more than a few days ago, but I also know you all are still on the edge of your seats waiting to hear what I did to celebrate this oh so American holiday in a foreign country. After having plans fall through last minute a group and I of my friends, were turkey day refugees. So, I decided to host Thanksgiving at my apartment. All tolled, we had a group of twelve make their way to the beautiful pine valley of Ocotepeque.

In true Honduran fashion the afternoon before the feast our electricity went out- mid pie baking session mind you! We immediately started planning where we could find a gas oven to cook our 14.5 turkey and other sides; luckily we had my gas stove to cook some of the food. 6 am the electricity came back! But… it was a tease, going out again at 9 am. This did not look good for our ambitious menu, and we had no way of telling if or when the power might come back. Undefeated, Kyla (fellow chef for the day) and I set out to the market to get the last few ingredients in case the lights came back on. It was a Thanksgiving Day miracle and the electricity came and stayed on while we were out shopping.

After prepping most dishes we set off to play in the Turkey Bowl 2010. We planned a touch football game up in a “field” a.k.a. a cow pasture by Kyle my site mate’s house. Team Oco vs. Team Penguins took the field, with crowds (ten at least) of Honduran children cheering.  The final score was 21 to 7 with the home team- Team Oco- coming out victorious! During our hour long game as a collective we managed to have a pulled groin, at least four scrapped knees, and some blood was drawn- by accident I swear! Then, it was time to get back for some serious cooking. 

I wrangled together 5 tables so that we could eat family style, not a common Peace Corps occurrence. The menu included a delicious turkey (thanks all to Kyla the vegetarian), chive mashed potatoes, biscuits, bacon wrapped green beans, tomato-cucumber salad, roasted vegetables, stuffing, apple pie, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cream pie, and banana bread.  Many stories were told, bottles of wine consumed, fireworks lit, body rolls perfected, and even some magic tricks performed. It was, all in all, a very successful celebration.

Light it and slide it!

El Presidente

This past weekend I was lucky enough to be invited to projecthonduras.com confernce in Copán Ruinas, where National and International NGO’s met to discuss the state of development work in Honduras.

This was a very interesting event, where I was inspired and motivated by all of the work being done in Honduras. Along with making some great connections, I got to meet some very important decision makers in the country.

Including President Porfirio Lobo Sosa and First Lady Rosa Elena de Lobo (please note this photo of Kyla and Me was taken after a long 3rd day of the conference):

September to Remember

This past September could have been one of the busiest months of my life!

To regale you all with the daily goings on would be so boring to read that I am not going to set down that path. 

To make it easier to here is my month long agenda:

August 27 – 29: Ok, not technically September but I consider this the kick-off of my month. I went up to Santa Rosa de Copán to celebrate Noche de los Fumadores, or an annual party that ends their fair that honors their factories and traditions of cigar making. Getting dressed up in cocktail attire was VERY different from my day-to-day jeans and worn in t-shirts, but definitely an interesting event.

September 30 – 3: Reconnect in Siguatepeque. This was a week long Peace Corps meeting with the Health and Water and Sanitation Projects. Here my days were filled with presentations and conversations about other volunteer’s work and advancements within our own projects.

September 4 – 5: Lake Yojoa. After our meetings had ended a few friends and I went to the only natural lake in the center of Honduras. We stayed at D&D Brewery, a volunteer favorite and the countries only Microbrewery, owned by a US ex-pat. To say this place is laid-back would be an understatement, as soon as you walk down the stone steps you feel your blood pressure immediately drop. The menu is filled with American favorites: food, soda, and of course beer. After eating myself into a coma, we were lucky enough to have a late night concert performed by the owner and 2 of my volunteer companions. 

If you are feeling a little lazy, as I was, you have some great activities close by. We elected to hike to the near Pulhapanzak Waterfall, the largest in Honduras at 140 feet in height.  You have the option of swimming in the pools above the falls, hiking to the bottom, zip lining across, or going under the water to hidden caves; my friends and I decided we had to go under. We were immediately approached by guides after our entrance into the park, and worked our way down to L. 60 a person to be guided under the falls. You have to hike down to the bottom of the waterfall and then hop a fence to get close to the water. By the time you are next to the base you can hardly see where you are going because of all of the mist flying at you. The only way to can go forward is to clutch onto the hand in front of you, when climbing through rushing pools of water and over boulders, handholding becomes almost impossible and the pace close to crawling pace.  First, you reach a large long cave first that is chest high full of water, where you are swaying back and forth because of the powerful water pouring over the rocks. The guide then gives you the option of going further, staying there, or turning back. My thought was “How could you go this far and turn back?” So I grabbed the guide’s hand, followed by only 2 of my friends and we stepped into the heavy cascade of water. I managed to hit my head twice on overhanging rock before the guide lifted me under the lip of a cave. Our reward was crawling up into a small cave on the far side of the fall and being deafened by rushing water. It was one of those examples of “It’s the journey not the destination” scenarios. There is no way to describe the power of the water beating down on our backs; it really leaves you in awe of nature.

September 6 – 12: Choluteca. After my adventures at the lake I head down to Choluteca to visit a fellow H16 health volunteer and to translate and work with an NGO. Sharefish, a small North Carolina based, educational focused NGO came down their third time this year to work with the small aldea El Carrizo. During this week we came to check-in on library and school maintenance. This was my first time to the South of Honduras and it definitely lives up to its reputation of being the hottest place in the country.  While I was wearing jeans down there I thought that I would pass out from the heat even in the shade. Despite the oppressive heat I was very exciting for this trip because it was also an opportunity to see my Aunt Nancy. I was able to catch up on life in the states and show her a bit Honduran culture. I wish that I had more time with her and that we were in a community that I knew, but I was so happy to have my first American visitor.

September 13 – 21: Ocotepeque! I finally made it home! This week was filled with moving apartments, my birthday, Honduran Independence Day, Ocotepeque’s 75^th birthday, friends visiting, and another bout of stomach illness. Not the rest I had been looking forward to!

September 22 – 27: Dad visits Ocotepeque to be my first American houseguest. I think that my dad was thoroughly unimpressed with my lack of running water and the opaqueness of the available water. It was more than a little funny when he would have to bucket bathe (dump small buckets of water over your head) and I would hear screams coming from the bathroom! When I offered to heat the water, he rejected and said that it was going to be awful no matter if it was warm or cold. American machismo if I have ever seen it. I then head up to Copán Ruinas for the first time. I timed it perfectly, just so that Tropical Storm Matthew was right over-head as I head to the park. Luckily the skies cleared, and left a completely empty park. The Mayan Ruins were absolutely beautiful and mystical. I plan on going back many times over.

I hope that abbreviated recap of my month was a good snap shot of my life right now in Honduras.

Now on to October…

Tournabe

Back in August I took a fabulous trip up to Tournabe, an aldea right along side of Tela on the North Coast of Honduras.

There are no words to describe how beautiful the North Coast is... so here are some pictures: