Slaving Away in the Kitchen All Day

Tomorrow, I have to go into my second class ever with my new group of girls and give them an exam! What kind of fun teacher will that make me? Usually this test is given during the first class, but because their teachers are only giving me an hour, I have to break things up a bit. So, tomorrow is pretty much just going to be the seven-page pre-test, which will tell me how much these girls know and don’t know about puberty, menstruation, sex, self-esteem, and decision making. To keep the girls on my good side - although because I’m the cool, young gringa in town, I’m sure I would still be on their good side - I made them cookies. And I must say, it was quite the chore. Baking in this country is not the easiest thing in the world, but I love to bake, so it was well worth it. Baking the cookies was as much for me as for the girls - baking is very therapeutic for me. Not that I’m going through anything in particular right now that makes me need therapeutic baking, but after being in another country for three and a half months, it was time to pull out the mixing bowl and baking sheets. However, that is metaphorical because I did not have either. Here in Honduras, we really learn to make do with what we have on hand, and for me that was a non-stick soup pot for my bowl and a glass, oval baking dish for my cookie sheet - but, they got the job done.

At 10:30 a.m., I started my search for supplies. The first pulparia I went to had one little bag of ground cinnamon (about a half teaspoon - maybe a whole teaspoon.) The next pulparia actually had raisins, but only the little red boxes like we used to get in our packed lunches. Not the mini ones, but the normal picnic-sized ones. They had five, so I bought all five of them. However, this pulparia did not have vanilla or gowned cinnamon. I bought flour and oatmeal along with my raisins and then went back to the first place to ask about vanilla, which they had! They just had a big bottle of it that they sold smaller portions out of, so they pored about two tablespoons in a baggy for me, which was only one lempira. On my way to one of the other larger pulparias, I stopped in to two others to see if they had raisins, which they didn’t, so I made my way down to the larger one by my house and bought two more packages of cinnamon. When I got home, I found a recipe online and was all set - except when I realized I didn’t have eggs. Luckily there is a pulparia right across the street that sells them, so I was ready to go in a matter of minutes.

My host mom had a bunch of the Honduran version on Crisco, and also happened to have the Honduran version of butter, too, so I borrowed a little of each. I found the cleanest, non-rusted cooking pot to use as my bowl and then set off to soften the “butter and Crisco.” While it was in the microwave, I went and grabbed my fan from my room and set it up in the kitchen because once I turned that oven on, it was going to get ungodly hot!

The recipe I found online for “Think and Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies” called for chilling the dough to really get the chewyness. Usually when dough needs to be chilled in a recipe, I never do it. But, I didn’t want the cookies to end up crunchy because I want the girls to love them. So, I decided to roll the dough into balls, put them in a Tupperware, and then put them in the freezer while the oven preheated. Before I got to this point, though, I realized I did not have brown sugar. Not much I could do about that - there was nowhere in this town that would sell it. I have seen it in some of the larger supermarkets, like in Tegucigalpa, but that is it. If I had molasses, I could have made do, but I didn’t have that either. So, I just made the cookies with regular sugar, which here is more like the raw sugar we have in the States,

When the oven was pre-heated, or so I though, I pulled the Tupperware out of the freezer, and greased the oval, glass baking dish I was able to find in one of my host mom’s cupboards. I fit about 10 cookies in the dish (and they are little-bit-sized cookies) and stuck them in the oven with my 10-minute timer set - actually I just put the alarm on my phone on for then minutes later.

When my timer went off, I peaked in the oven and the cookies looked exactly the same as when I put them in. I turned up the temperature and set my alarm for ten more minutes. Oh, and what was I doing during the downtime when the cookies were baking. I had brought my laptop out into the kitchen with the fan, and was watching a new guilty-pleasure show: Gossip Girl. I know, not the best way to spend my time in Honduras. But, Tricia lent me the DVDs for season one, and when I start watching a new show, I get hooked - no matter what the show is. So while my cookies were baking, I was speeding my way through season one of Gossip Girl. I must say it was like the most perfect day - cookies and the most girly show on the face of the planet - maybe even more so that Gilmore Girls -what could have made it any better? It took a full episode and turning up the oven two more times (until it was supposedly at almost 500 degrees) until the first batch of cookies was done. The second batch and the 4 batches after that each only took about a half an hour. The last batch came out of the oven at about 4:30 p.m. It only took five and a half hours, but I successfully made cookies in Honduras, which taste very yummy if I do say myself, and that was seconded and thirded by my host brother and dad!

The finished project!!

Thick, Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

The last trick to getting a really thick, chewy cookie is to chill the dough before you bake it. You can scoop it and then chill it, or, if you’re like us, scoop it, freeze them and store them in a freezer bag so you can bake them as you wish. I find they’re always thicker when baked from the cold — only a couple extra minutes baking is needed.

This is a half recipe. It makes a couple dozen standard-size cookies. (I get more because I make them tinier.) I always feel like I’m swimming in cookies when I make the full volume, but if you’re feeding a crowd, go ahead and double it.

1/2 cup (1 stick or 4 ounces) butter, softened
2/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt (I often use a half teaspoon, but I like more salt in my baked goods)
1 1/2 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup raisins
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped (optional)

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).

In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar, egg and vanilla until smooth. In a separate bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt together. Stir this into the butter/sugar mixture. Stir in the oats, raisins and walnuts, if using them.

At this point you can either chill the dough for a bit in the fridge and then scoop it, or scoop the cookies onto a sheet and then chill the whole tray before baking them. You could also bake them right away, if you’re impatient, but I do find that they end up slighly less thick.

The cookies should be two inches apart on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake them for 10 to 12 minutes (your baking time will vary, depending on your oven and how cold the cookies were going in), taking them out when golden at the edges but still a little undercooked-looking on top. Let them sit on the hot baking sheet for five minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool.

A Fun-Filled Day in the Sun

Written June 14th.

Remember when we were in grade school, and on Earth Day everyone put on latex gloves, grabbed a garbage bag, and headed off with their classmates to clean the streets of their town. I always remember it being such a long day. We were out picking up trash for hours, but hey, it beet the heck out of being in the classroom! Today, I got to see the Honduran version of “trash-pick-up day.” It was very similar, but then very different at the same time. When I was in school, the teachers were always watching us like hawks telling us when we missed something and that we needed to pay more attention to the task at hand than to the games we were playing with our gloves, bags and garbage! Here in Honduras, the teachers sort of just strolled along behind us. I think it was just as much a break from class for them as it was for the kids, so they were not paying that much attention to how good of a job the kids were doing! Let me go back to the beginning a little bit:

What a day it was. This fine Tuesday morning, I went to the health center, at 8 a.m., as per usual. There were not very many people in the waiting room, which is not unusual for a Tuesday. I was just putsing around finding things to help with and talking to the nurses, when Carlos came in. Carlos is the Health Educator-type person. I don’t know what exactly his title is. He is always running around to the different communities testing the water and telling people when they really need make sure and boil their water, but that they should just ALWAYS boil it. But, then he also makes sure that our health center follows the rules such as, our nurses wearing their uniform and doing their paperwork correctly. He has a lot of responsibility, but I’m not sure what his job title is?

So, this Tuesday morning when Carlos came in to say good morning to all of us, he told me about a “meeting” going on in a nearby aldea. I didn’t really understand what he said or what the meeting was about, but I caught the part about trash pick-up. It wasn’t really important what it was all about, I said that I of course wanted to go with him out there. I jump at every opportunity I can to go out to the aldeas because I want them to get to know me out there, so I can start some projects with them, too. I rounded up my stuff in the health center and joined Carlos for the under 10 minute drive out to the aldea. When we go there, Carlos introduced me, dropped off some black garbage bags and was on his way. I had miss-understood what he said to me at some point, because I was unaware that he was only dropping stuff off and wasn’t participating. But, it didn’t really bother me. Since arriving in Honduras, my nervousness of new situations has really begun to dwindle. I’m in a new situation pretty much everyday, and at some point, you just have to learn to deal with it.

After Carlos left, I was left with two teachers and a mob of kids. We were headed out on the first trash pick-up of the year for this community. I’m not sure if it was the first organized trash pick-up, ever, but it kind of seemed that way. The kids each got one latex glove and a small black trash bag and then took off running down the road. I took up the rear with one of the teachers and about five kids. We took our time picking up all the trash that the kids in a hurry had skipped over. We only did the main street, and only about 150 yards of it, I would guess. But hey, it is a start! At least the people in this community are aware that there is a trash problem. The fact that everyone in Honduras thinks it is ok to eat something and then just throw the rapper on the ground, baffles me. This is only because in the states, we were taught from a very young age that this was not allowed - and in fact is against the law. Sure, all of us United Statesers have thrown trash on the ground, but we always try to do it stealthily and usually only when there is no garbage can around. Not the Honduras - they just chuck it right out bus windows, car windows, over their shoulders - and in front of anyone and everyone.

We picked up trash for under 30 minutes, and for 10 of that, I was just taking pictures, which meant the kids were not doing anything except for posing for me. Kids here tend to love when you take pictures because they are able to look at them in the digital camera! There are of course the select few that don’t like their pictures take, but they still like to look at the pictures of the other kids. After we went back to the school, I was taking pictures of the kids on their play ground. The boys kept climbing up things trying to make good poses for the camera, it was adorable. But, they kept pushing each other around trying to get each other out of the photos, which made me nervous. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt, so after about 20 minutes of that, I put the camera away to keep things on the safe side.

I left the school at about 10pm, but not until after I mentioned starting Yo Merezco with the kids in that aldea after I finish with the school in my site. The teacher sounded very interested and said that I could do it, so that was exciting. I walked home, which took me about a half an hour - in terrible flat sandals! It was blistering hot, so when I arrived at my house, I was drenched in sweat - I was very thankful I had put on sun screen before leaving the health center! After a couple hours of being outside, I would have been burnt to a crisp. As it was, I still ended up a little red. When I got home, I ate lunch and rested up a bit before heading back to the health center. There was a meeting scheduled in the same community for 2pm, and Carlos had invited me to go with him. I wasn’t entirely sure what this meeting was about, but it was a community meeting, which meant the perfect opportunity to get to know more people in the community.

Before heading out there, I re-loaded up on the sun screen, which was a good idea because the meeting ended up being outside!

Carlos and I of course arrived a good hour before the meeting actually started, but that is better than being late. I like that there are a few Hondurans that do not follow Honduras time and actually arrive to events when they are meant to start. So, for the hour before the meeting start, I sat outside the building it was supposed to be in, with Carlos and three other guys. They were asking me all sorts of questions, and we got into talking about fishing. They all loved that I was from Alaska and fished with my dad and wanted to know all about it. I wish I had a wider vocabulary in Spanish, but I was able to get the general idea across! One of them had seen what I think he was describing was Deadliest Catch, so he thought that is what I did in Alaska, and it took a little while to make them understand the difference. Lots of time I don’t even try to correct people in the States when they think that is the kind of fishing I did in Alaska, so I gave it my best shot in Spanish!

We all re-located to the school for some reason that was unclear to me, but I didn’t ask questions, I just followed the mob of people that had congregated to the school. However, instead of going in one of the classrooms, we just pulled out a bunch of chairs and sat in the playground. It was just fine at first, but as the sun was moving across the sky, we lost our shade and were all burning up - especially me.

The meeting ended up being about the water situation in this aldea. They are going to build a new water tank in a higher location than the current one, so it can supply the whole town, as it as grown over the past 10 years since the first tank was put in. But, to build this tank, they have to form work groups, which they did during this meeting. The selected 8 group leaders, and all the men ages 15 and up have to participate. The groups are going to alternate working, in the sense that one group will work all day one day and then won’t have to work for seven more days while the other groups have their turns. After they finished with the information about the new water tank and formed their work groups, the floor was handed over to Carlos who talked about the health side of things. He told everyone that in a test he just conducted, in two cc of water, there were 9 (somethings) of poop. So, in one glass of water there are 250 cc (ml) and if you drink 8 classes of water a day - you are drinking around 9000 particles of poop everyday! He explained the importance of boiling the water from the tap, or purifying it with bleach and then went into explain the different diseases you can get from drinking the water if you don’t boil it our put chlorine in it: diarrhea due to different bacteria, parasites and viruses; dengue and malaria, colera, Hepatitis, and cisticercosis - which is the larva of tapeworms that you can drink and then will form in your intestines and grow up to 7 meters long! In a segue from talking about cisticercosis, Carlos went on to talk about pigs. Apparently you get this tape worm from eating contaminated pig, but then it can be passed through feces as well! In this community, there are a lot of pigs that roam the streets scrounging for scraps, and there is a law stating that pigs, chickens, and other animals are not allowed to freely roam the streets. Carlos told the community members he is going to give the town eight days to get the pigs off the roads before he does something - I didn’t understand that part, but I think it is something along the lines of fining people, or taking away their pigs.

After the meeting was over, Carlos had to leave very quickly, so didn’t get a chance to chat with anyone in the community, but just being at the meeting does a lot. It gets my face out there, so people will know I’m around, and someone will be able to tell them who I am and what I am doing. When I got back to my house, I went for a run, ate dinner and then was completely exhausted! I was in the sun, speaking and listening to Spanish practically all day - I am exhausted. It is time to go to bed, and thanks to my new fan, I will hopefully be able to sleep soundly!

Baby Time

Written June 13th

I woke up bright and early today - at 5:30 a.m. This is only a half hour earlier than normal, but I was going to meeting someone between 7:30 and 7:45, so I needed to be ready by then. And, since I have been doing yoga every morning, it takes me two hours to get ready - something I never thought I would say (about the yoga and the taking two hours to get ready!).

So, why was I getting up early? The thirteenth of every month marks the start of the week of AIN-C weighings. AIN-C is the organization here in Honduras that monitors the growth and malnourishment of children under two years old. The monitor for my municipality is Grosbin, and comes from a nearby town and goes to all the aldeas around my site to help the volunteer-promoters in each community. The eight aldeas around my site have varying numbers of children, so some take a few hours to weigh and measure all the kids, but some can be done much quicker. One aldea only has two kids under the age of two, so that can be done in a matter of minutes. Today was my first time going to an AIN-C weighing. I learned about it in training, but everything is always very different when you see it in person.

We arrived in the aldea before 8 a.m., and the weighing was supposed to start at 8:30. Grosbin was the last one to show up the previous month, so he didn’t want that to happen again. He is not your typical Honduran who is late to everything; he prefers to be early! We waited in the shade talking until we saw one mother with her baby. I wouldn’t really call him a baby - he was huge, but he was only 13 months old, so he was still basically a baby, but he had the girth of a two-year-old. I’m sure this is due to the fact that he was eating candy (there were so many things wrong with that. 1 - he is only 13 months old, he shouldn’t be eating candy, and 2 - it was not even 8:30 in the morning, nobody should be eating candy that early). I would be willing to bed a lot of money that the mother also gives him Coke! Everyone here in Honduras drinks Coke and coffee, even little kids.

So, after waiting for about a half hour, Grosbin and I re-located to a spot with more shade. The weighing was going to take place in the school yard, so we went and sat in front of one of the class rooms. Finally another mother showed up. However, after another 15 minutes a woman came and told us that the promoter needed to change the meeting to this afternoon at 1:30 p.m. That would have been nice to know before we went all the way there and then waited for 45 minutes, but this is Honduras! I felt bad for Grosbin because he had travel more than a half hour from his town! But, it was still early enough that we could each go back home for the morning and get things done before returning for the afternoon.

A little before 1:30 p.m., I was waiting for Grosbin on the corner of the road that I live on. Standing on the corner, I could see the oncoming traffic from both directions of the main road. On my right, a motorcycle was approaching very rapidly! There are even speed bumps on this part of the highway so people will go slow, but this motorcycle just cruised right around them. The guy cut across the parking lot to my right and was going to attempt to make the left turn onto my road, but at the speed he was going, that in no way was going to happen. And it didn’t. The motorcycle passed in front of my, missing me by about three feet, crashed into a stump and the guy went tumbling off the bike and smacked into a cement block that was part of a fence on the side of the road. The guy jumped right up, so I didn’t bother checking if he was OK. I know I probably should of, but the crash drew a lot of attention. A bunch of guys from the auto shop ran over as well as a few people from down the road. I didn’t really want to get into the middle of all of their talking. I couldn’t understand most of what they were saying, and I don’t have the vocabulary to describe what I saw happen, so I just stayed where I was next to the light post.

A few minutes later Grosbin arrived, and we repeated our morning journey to the school, but nobody was there - again.. We happened to bump into one of the AIN-C promoters walking past on her way to the meeting, and she informed us that the meeting was actually at her house. I don’t understand why nobody tells Grosbin anything. He is the one “in charge,” yet they are always keeping him out of the loop. Grosbin and I went with this woman to her house, and almost all the mothers were already there, and two babies had already been weighed. So, Grosbin jumped right in with his tape measurer and began measuring each kid after he or she was weighed. I was right at his side to assist whenever needed.

It is so funny how different all the kids are. Some infants that are only two-month-olds don’t mind getting weighed at all, but then you put them on the table to get measured and they start wailing to the point that it is almost impossible to get an accurate height. But, some don’t mind either; of course there are also the ones that don’t like either and just cry the entire time. You would think the older kids would be more used to it and know what is going on, but so many of them start screaming the second you try to put them in the sling. You would think they remember that it hurts or something, but nothing about it would hurt! I understand when kids come in to the health center and go into the vaccine room and immediately start crying because I sure would remember the place that stabs me every couple months! But, getting weighed - what is there to cry about - it is like a swing, you would think kids would like it.

Sad babies!

The first 18 kids went really fast, but then that was all of the kids that were there. The promoters made a few phone calls and after a little while a few more mothers showed up. But then we were still missing about 5 kids. We were supposed to stay there until all the kids were weighed, but at 4pm when we were still missing three kids, Grosbin decided we could go. If they were already two and a half hours late, the chances that they were actually going to come were slim to none.

I enjoyed being able to accompany Grosbin, and I will be going to another aldea on Wednesday and then others on Saturday and Sunday. I will know the drill by the end of the week. This month I just wanted to meet the promoters and the mothers - even though there is no way I will be remembering hardly anyone’s names. But, I want them to know who I am and to feel comfortable with me around. Next month, I hope to start giving charlas to the mothers while their kids are getting weighed and measures. Charlas about nutrition to start with, I think. Trying to get them to stop giving their kids a ton of sugar and Coke is going to be my first goal. Maybe after my two years here I will succeed in convince at least handful of women to stop?

Welcome to the Gun Show

Growing up, I was trained that when ever you hear a gun shot, you listen up to make sure you don’t hear two more. And, if you do, you know someone is in trouble. Three gun shots is the SOS signal of Southeast, Alaska - probably many places, but especially SE Alaska. If you are lost in the woods, hurt in the woods, run into a bear, your skiff ran out of gas, or any other reason that makes you need someone to come and assist you, you shoot three shots into the sky. So, last Monday morning at 3:30 a.m., I was soundly sleeping when my subconscious was stirred because of a gun shot. When it was immediately followed by a second one, I was awake, and when it was immediately followed by a third, I was sitting up in bed. Yes, I’m in Honduras, and I have no idea if they use the three-gun-shot rule, but the point was quickly moot because following those first three came eight more. I laid back down and was trying to fall back to sleep only to be stirred again one minute later by 11 more shots. Over the next half hour, I counted 78 shots, albeit, I was trying to sleep during this insane racket, so I’m sure I missed counted, but the point is, there were a crap-ton of shots. These were not far-off shots that I could just barely hear either, no, they were from about two houses down, so I could hear them as if they were right next to me.

You may be asking yourself, just like I was at 3:30 in the morning, why the hell was someone blasting a bunch of shots into the air? I found out the reason later that morning when I walked into the kitchen rubbing my eyes and asked my host mom what the heck was going on. Of course, I do not know the word/words for gun shots in Spanish, so I just formed my hand into the universal sign for gun and made the “bang bang” noise. Her explanation was that Monday was the start of the week students had off because of “Student’s Day,” which is June 11th. So apparently that means that it is ok to shoot a gun off at all hours of the night. She didn’t think anything of it. It took her a second to even register what I was asking her about when I made reference to the gun shots. For a second I thought maybe they didn’t wake her up, which would have been crazy. If someone could sleep through more than 78 gunshots, I would be thoroughly impressed.

As weird as this experience was, I didn’t here anyone mention it in town all week. Like I said, apparently it is nothing to think twice about. Ya, it sort of gave me the creeps, but nobody else seemed to care in the slightest. Guns are an everyday thing here in Honduras. During training we learned that if someone is trying to mug us, we need to just give them what we’ve got because the odds of them having are gun are not in our favor.

A lot of incidents have happened this past week - not TO volunteers - involving guns. One day last week, I was sitting at the desk in the vaccine room in the health center and walks in a guy with a glock tucked into his pants. I couldn’t not look at it. Thankfully Janet was in the room, too, because when he asked his question, I didn’t hear it. I was just staring at the gun and wondering why on earth he felt the need to have that on him in my friendly little community, let alone when he came to pick up his daughter at the health center!

Yesterday, Amanda told us about her day on Friday. She apparently went to a funeral with some of her co-workers from her site because a man had died who was related to one of them. Amanda was expecting some old man that died of natural causes, but that was not what she got. On the way to the funeral, there was a traffic jam. Upon investigation, they realized a tire was getting fixed on a pick-up, up the road a little bit. After waiting a little while for the truck to be moved, so cars could get by more quickly, Amanda realized that the other side of the truck looked like swiss cheese because of all the bullet holes, and that all the windows were shattered. As shocking as this discovery was, Amanda didn’t think much of it, but when she got to the funeral and saw a body laying on a piece of plywood that was sitting on two trashcans, she made the connection. This man, had not died from natural causes. He was gunned down in his truck (most likely drug related) that morning. She told us that the man was still in the clothes that he was killed in, with blood stains all over them. It sounded like an experience I would not have wanted to experience. I have never even been able to make myself go to a funeral of someone that I know, let a lone a stranger covered in blood that might be sitting on some plywood.

Then, last night, in Gracias, a few volunteers ran across a dead man. We obviously do not know that what took place that night involved a gun or not, but one can only imagine. So, what the guys told us gals, Amanda, Ashley, and I, who had called it a night a little earlier, was the following: The guys were walking back to another volunteers house, where they were going to crash for the night, when they noticed what they thought looked like blood in the “gutter” of the street. For two blocks, they walked beside the stream of blood and then realized there was a person laying on the sidewalk ahead of them. Their first instinct was to assume it was a bolo (drunk guy) sleeping on the sidewalk because that is something you see everyday here in Honduras. But, taking into consideration the amount of blood they had just walked past, they had second thoughts. When they reached the body and saw all the blood pooled around it, it became painfully aware that it was not just another bolo. As new volunteers, these guys didn’t know exactly what to do. It is not like there is a 911 that you can dial and have an ambulance rush right over. When they arrived at their destination, they decided to call the duty officer of the Peace Corps, to ask what to do, and I’m actually not sure what he said. But, the other volunteers who live in that same complex had apparently seen the man when they walked home too, and were also trying to figure out what to do. They did get in touch with the police, who apparently said that it was just some drunk guy and not to worry about it. When they all asked the landlord of their building for advice she instructed them to just let it be. Which, in the end is what they had to do.

Maybe the man fell and cracked his scull on the corner of the sidewalk, maybe he was beaten to death, maybe there was a gunshot wound somewhere on his body - we will never now. However, I’m slowly becoming aware of the fact that I may at sometime in my new Honduran life have to face a gun, which is not something that is fun to think about.

Wild Wild West

All the talk about the welcome party was good. It made me want to go, though not for the reasons a lot of other volunteers were going. I had heard that welcome parties here in Honduras are a time for all the old volunteers to see the new “relationship” prospects, as well as a time for all the new volunteers to see who is out there in their zone who they know will be “clean” and won’t be trying to marry you for a trip to the States. I wanted to go to the party simply to get to know the rest of the volunteers in my zone. I wanted the pleasure of being in the company of a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers - to hear their stories and how their service has been for them thus far. With so many volunteers in one location there would have to be an uncountable number of untold stories - comedic and horror - right?

Pre-Party:

Only living forty minutes away from the location of the party, and it being the town I go to every Saturday to do my weekly shopping, I arrived bright and early Saturday morning. I tried to get my errands done, but was unsuccessful because apparently even though the bank is open on Saturday, they can’t actually do anything. But, that is besides the point. I met up with some other volunteers at the locally owned restaurant: Weekend’s Pizza. It is run by two woman who are half Honduran and half American. Their Mother (or was it father?) was a Peace Corps volunteer back in the day and married a Honduran, so they grew up in Honduras, but they know English and love to have the Peace Corps volunteers at their establishment! I stayed at the restaurant for four hours, visiting with all the volunteers who came and went. I ended up leaving with some friends from my training class (H-18) to find the finishing touches for our costumes for the party.

The awesome H-14 volunteer who planned this event themed it - Wild West! So, we all needed to encontrar (to find) costumes. I wanted to buy a big belt buckle and a cowboy hat to top off my jeans and plaid shirt, but alas, I was too cheap. I didn’t want to spend 300 Lempira on a hat that I was only going to wear once. Ok - to be fair, 300 lemps is only about $17, but I have to start thinking in terms of Lempira. With my limited Peace Corps budget, spending 300 lemps on a hat is six days worth of pay - and that is just too much. I don’t think someone in the states would take the $600 or more that they make in six days and buy a hat for a one-time event, so try not to picture me as, too cheap! I would rather try and penny pinch and save some of my money for different adventures here in Honduras, but at my current spending rate, I am really not saving anything. I think it is the excitement of being here in a new country and having so many things to see and buy. Hopefully after a few months my spending habits will fade a little bit.

After asking for directions many times and looking in a lot of stores, finally everyone was happy with their purchases and ready for an evening of cowboy fun, so we went back to the hotel that all of us Peace Corps volunteers were pitching in to rent. We were not just renting a few rooms, no we did it in style - the volunteer who organized this event, rented the whole hotel! It worked out to only being about 200 lempira ($12) a piece for our own bed for the night, and a place to party freely with no worries of any danger or being robbed or mugged - but that is a story for later!

Background:

Let me explain how the Peace Corps here in Honduras works a little bit before I get into the party too much. Everything is changing right now with budget cuts and alterations to the structure of Peace Corps Honduras, but when I arrived, this is how it was. Ever years, two training classes come to Honduras. In February Health, Business and Water and Sanitation; then in September (? I‘m pretty sure) Protected Areas Management (PAM), Municipal Development (MUD)t, and Youth Development. So, the first group (Health, Biz, and Wat-san) are the even numbers and the other groups are the odd numbers. I have no idea why we are only on number 18 when Peace Corps Honduras is going to be celebrating its 50th anniversary next year, but that is just how it is.

So, at this party were: H-14, 15, 16, 17 and us newbees the H-18ers. The few H-14ers there had either all ready COS-ed (Close of Service) or were about to, meaning they are done with their two-year term, and the H-15ers have about 4 months left till they are out of here. Now that I think of it, there were really not that many other health volunteers at this party - only three that I know of for sure! But, a lot of people started showing up later into the festivities that I was never introduced to, so who knows who was actually there. I know there were a whole lot of the PAMers, though!

The Party:

So, out of everyone that ended up going to that party, I think I can probably tell you the name and project of only a handful of them, which is pathetic! There was: Katie:health, Terrin: health, Mat: Health, Stephen: MUD, Stephan: Business, Xia (spelling): Wat-San, Carrie: Business, Lisa: Youth Development, and Camila: PAM - Better than I thought - I got nine. Ok, then there was also: Kenen, Dametri, (and I really can’t spell) Brock and his wife, Cayla, Meredith, Jenna, and Greg, but like I said, I can’t tell you which project they are from. On top of these people, a lot more were at the party, because I only named 15 just now - down right pathetic - but I was either not introduced or simply can’t remember the names of the others, which is unfortunate.

Even though I was hoping to hear a lot of different stories from the other volunteers, I really didn’t get to hear any. Carrie told a great story about taking the bus that same day - she was petted heavily: and I mean petted literally. A guy actually pet her head/face! She is a girl that I am going to like. Her personality and the way she tells stories = awesome! I look forward to hearing more of her stories. Even though I didn’t get to hear much about Peace Corps during this party - it was still awesome. Dametri and Stephan made dinner, which was a great change to our normal Honduran food of beans, tortillas and egg. The guys made bbq chicken, salad, grilled veggies, and someone brought brown rice and a bean salad - it was delicious! Then began -well, in reality, it had already begun - the drinking and dancing. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love to dance. But, for some reason, I was not feeling the dance music, so it actually took me until almost midnight before I began to bust a move. Amanda and I really wanted to Bachata (an awesome Latin American dance), but the DJ wouldn’t play that type of music, so me being stubborn and sober, I just didn’t dance until they played a Bachata song! Finally they played one - and only one- and Amanda and I enjoyed the heck out of it. At about midnight everyone migrated to a club to get their grove on. It took me a while to decide if I actually wanted to go or not because I was pretty tiered, but come on - who are we talking about. Of course I went to go dancing. I only stayed for about 30-45 minutes before I was about dead and made my way back to the hotel with some other folks that decided to call it a night, too.

I got back to my room - showered, read for a little while and fell asleep probably by about 3 a.m. I got out of bed about 8:15 and decided to go start the clean up. I was the only one up and out of their room at this time, and I didn’t expect to see anyone for quite a while because the amount of alcohol that was consumed was pretty insane, but Stephan actually came up and helped me clean after about 20 minutes. The manager of the hotel helped too, so it didn’t take too much time to finish with the three of us.

Everyone was pretty slow moving when they finally did get up, and I was surprised that most people were up before 9 a.m. I also realized that some people had even left before I got up because they had early buses to catch back to their sites. I would not want to ride a bus for 2+ hours hung-over, that is for sure.

One of the other H-18ers and I were talking during the party. Looking around there were so many people that we didn’t know, and we felt weird about going up to people and introducing ourselves - we didn’t really know how to explain it, but we felt like we were being judged. The other H-18er had a good analogy. She said it was like rushing your freshman year of college. You go into a sorority and everyone is watching you and judging you trying to decided if you are worthy of jointing them. Last night sort of had that vibe about it - not that I ever rushed a sorority in college, but I’ve seen enough chick flicks.

I’m looking forward to more Peace Corps parties to get to know everyone else who has made this life-altering decision to come volunteer in a foreign country and to just have an opportunity to hang out with some gringos - as horrible as that may sound. But, I know that during these two years there are going to be times that I really just need to hang out with other Americans or other people that speak English. I heard it from our trainers and I heard it from other volunteers that there will be times where you really just need to have a venting session and will need a break from your site and Spanish!

Most interesting thing seen during the Wild West party:

One of the H-14ers and an English bloke doing some sort of fancy partner yoga.

At about 11 p.m. I was chatting with some other H-18ers. I had my back to the action going on behind me, but when I saw the looks of curiosity on my friends faces, I turned around to investigate what they were witnessing. The English bloke was laying on his back with his legs up holding up the thighs of the H-14er, who had her legs out in an upside down split with her head basically resting on the bloke’s crotch. I guess trying to explain to you this crazy scene is harder than I though, but you can get the idea - “crazy two-person drunk yoga,” gotta love it!

The Robbery:

One of the H-16ers decided to sleep at the Weekend’s Pizza gals’s house because a bunch of water had been spilled on her bed at the hotel. So, when her and one of the Weekend’s gals decided to stop dancing and call it a night, they left the club and were walking to their truck. On the way, two boys (described as 16-year-old-looking) held them up with knives and told them to give them all their money and their phones. The Weekend’s gal gave the kids her phone and 100 lempira, and H-16er gave them her personal phone and told them that was all she had. Thankfully the kids did not seem to be incredibly experienced or were just in a hurry, but they didn’t press the matter. The H-16er actually had 1,500 lemps on her and her other phone because she is one of the e-zone coordinators for this zone (if there is an emergency, she is responsible for telling everyone in her emergency zone). This incident took place at about 3 a.m., and it was the first thing I heard about when people started waking up after their night of partying. Neither of the girls seemed to be too distraught by the incident. The other Weekend’s gal - the sister - was more concerned about what had taken place than either the other two were.

So, moral behind this story - it is probably not a good idea for two women to walk around alone at 3 a.m. no matter how close your car is or how safe you think it is in that neck of the woods. As much as an independent woman as I am, I am slowly starting to realize that there are times that I really do have to “depend” on a man: to walk me home, to walk me to my bus, basically to escort me anywhere when I don’t know the area or if it is dark. It has taken me a while to get a grasp on this concept, but it is one that I’m going to have to get better at if I don’t want to get mugged or harassed!

Politics...

Written June 2nd

As Peace Corps volunteers, we are not supposed to talk about politics while here in Honduras. We are supposed to remain neutral and politely tell people that we can’t discuss it, when the subject is brought up, which it almost always is. How can the subject not be brought up - five days ago the ex-president came back to Honduras after being gone for almost two years. For those of you who don’t know, there was a coup two years ago, which caused the ex-president to flee. Of course, I probably shouldn’t talk much about what happened, but you can easily find the information online - even on Wiki.

The day of the ex-president’s arrival my host dad made the seven-hour drive to Tegucigalpa to witness the historic event - he is a supporter. That night, my host mom explained to me what happened here in Honduras and why the ex-pres had to flee, and why he is now coming back. She also explained why that president was so much better than the current and how the life of Hondurans are now worse for the ware with the current president. My host family fully hopes that the ex-president will be elected once again under his newly created political party.

Last night my host mom also explained to me about the “rights of the people” here in Honduras. My host mom is quite the activist. Today she went to a meeting about the rights of Hondurans - especially poor Hondurans. I don’t consider my host family to be poor. They seem to be quite well off for Honduran Standards, but they certainly are active in the fight for the rights of the campasinos (poor farm workers). The meeting that Sonia went to today was about the privatization of education and health here in Honduras. According to my host mom, if health and education is fully privatized than none of the poor Hondurans will be able to go to school or to a health center. Many people are worried about what will happen if the privatization passes. Apparently there have been a lot of meetings held - some with the current president, and many promises made by the president, but no action has actually been taken. This was the reason for today’s meeting. These representatives of the people are starting to get fed up with the lack of action being taken by the president, and want to try and organize a protest.

There are a lot of things I could say about all this - things that my host mom told me about, but I don’t want it to sound as though I am talking about my ideas about the politics and policies of Honduras, because I don’t want to get in trouble by the Peace Corps.

On a non-prohibited note, I was really happy that I could understand these two political/difficult conversations I had with my host mom. She talked to me for quite a long time - I didn’t say much in response. I just smiled and nodded, so she knew I understood and was listening. But, the fact that I was able to understand most of it made me very happy. In my opinion, my Spanish is really coming along. I felt bad for not really having an actual conversation with my host mom about these matters - just nodding and smiling seems kind of disrespectful, but I didn’t want to get too deep into a political discussion. One, because I really don’t have that much to say about the politics here in Honduras or in the United States, two, because I don’t have the Spanish I would need to say what I would want to say, and three because it is prohibited by the Peace Corps.

We’ll see what plays out over the next two years that I am here in Honduras, though. What is going to happen during the next election? What will happen with education and health care? What will happen to the campasinos? There are a lot of variables. At this point - we are just going to have to wait and see.