Bus travel was not something I experienced in the states. Ya, I took some of the city transits in Bellingham and Seattle when I lived in Washington, but that was it. Moving to Honduras has opened my eyes to a whole new world of transportation. I have never really liked riding on buses - they are diesel and they small like it, they vibrate and people smell weird, but to get around in Honduras, you just have to deal with it.
A few different bus options are available here in Honduras. You have your fancy buses with bathrooms, tv’s, air conditioning, and reclining chairs; there are the rapiditos that also have the nice seats and air conditioning, but they don’t usually stop quite as often as the larger buses (rapid=fast); then there are the micro-bus rapiditos that are basically small buses, or vans that are used to cram as many people as possible into for one trip, to make the most money; finally we have the yellow school buses - which of course are known as the chicken buses. The chicken buses are probably the most commonly seen and talked about. I have yet to actually see a chicken on one of these buses, but I’m have no doubt that during my two-year stint I will see one.
The chicken buses are the cheapest of all the buses, but I have come to realize that sometimes paying the extra five or ten lempira for the nicer, rapidito is not the worst thing in the world. On the chicken buses, when all the seats are full, they add one more person to each one, and then they fill the isle with so many people that if you have a seat, someone is basically sitting on your lap, and there is no way to move freely through the isle. Peoples privates also tend to rub all up on other people - I unfortunately once had a man’s crotch pretty much resting on my arm. To make this all even more uncomfortable, people in Honduras do not smell that great, especially the people who choose to ride the chicken buses. I have heard it referred to as the “campesino small,” which basically means the poor-farmer smell. People don’t bathe everyday, and even if they do, they often times forget about the soap! Also, I am living in Honduras, which means it is HOT, so when we are all crammed in like sardines into a school bus, you have to keep in mind that it is probably more than 80 degrees outside, so you can only imagine the sweat and lovely smells coming off of everyone. Sometimes I prefer to stand. Even though the rides get a little crazy - I’ll explain that momentarily - I think it is better than sitting on the plastic seats only to stand up and have your whole back and most of your ass drenched in sweat - Great image, I know!
The way people drive in this country is a whole other story. In the states, we have double yellow lines, and when one side has dashed lines, that means that you are allowed to pass - the passing zone if you will. Here in Honduras, I have seen those passing lines, but I’m not sure that whoever made them knew what they meant. They usually only last about 20 yards and they don’t take into consideration turns or anything of the sort. Whether the dashed lines mean passing here in Honduras or not, people don’t pay attention to them. I don’t think I would ever really want to drive here in Honduras - I feel like I would end up killed by some crazy driver that decided to pass someone on a turn, which is what everyone does - even the buses. One day, I was actually a little bit frightened for my life. Now, usually the buses do drive relatively fast for how curvy and bumpy most of the roads are, but on this particular day, the driver was driving even faster because there was another bus in front of us, so it was always a race to see who could get to the bus stop faster to get the fares! These buses were basically playing cat and mouse. One would stop to pick up passengers and then would drive like a maniac to catch up with the other bus and pass it no matter what the road conditions were at that moment: a turn, cars coming, crazy pot holes, or all of the above. Passing another bus at high speeds on a turn - SCARY - it feels like the bus is just going to tip right over.
Thankfully most of my experiences with buses thus far have not been too excruciating. Yes, it is hot, yes the smells can get to you, but that is what the windows are for! That is, unless there are no openable windows. A few weeks ago, I was on one of the nice buses from my site to Santa Rosa. On this particular bus, the windows did not open, but it was ok because amazingly enough, it had air conditioning. This was all great, until a lady on the bus got sick. She vomited right into the isle and we could not open any windows for ventilation. We were all trapped on the bus being forced to breath in the toxic smells coming from what was that women’s breakfast!
Another thing about public transportation in Honduras - when someone is car sick, they don’t clean it up - if you are lucky they will just throw some newspaper over it!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I really hate spiders...
I have seen way too many spiders in the last three days. First, I was walking home in the dark a couple nights ago and something scurried across the street in front of me. It caught my attention, so I let my glance follow where the animal was headed. However, to my surprise, it wasn’t a frog, or mouse or any other sort of animal I would have been expecting. It was a huge spider. In all actuality, the body was probably only the size of a golf ball, but the legs made it seem huge. I screamed right there in the street. Thankfully nobody heard. It was the biggest spider I have ever seen in my life. As soon as I got my wits back I got away from that things as fast as I could - ok, I didn’t run, but I sure walked fast. Then, when I got home, I was checking my kitties litter box to see if he had finally figured out what the heck it was for, and as I bent down, something on the wall caught my eye. I peered to my left as I continued to bend over toward the litter box, and as my mind realized what I was looking at, I jumped backward and scared the hell out of Junior (my new kitty). Again, a yell escaped my lips, but thankfully not a very loud one. I managed to gain the courage to grab a flip flop and kill it. This one was about the size of a silver dollar, including the legs.
So, to add to my torture, the next day, I was showering and felt something funny on my foot. Yep, looked down and there was one of those big, black, silver -sized spiders on my foot. I jumped and screamed, and luckily was wearing flip flops so when I stomped on the little sucker, I didn’t have to touch it. That shower was over right then and there. A little later, when I was headed to bed, there was yet another one of the little buggers on my floor - another kill for the flip flop.
So, today, I was reading and out of the corner of my eye, saw something scurrying across my floor. Another spider. This one was the same size as the other, ugly black ones, but it was more of a gray and seemed to have a white stripe down its back - like a skunk-type spider. I still screamed, but luckily that trusted flip flop was right next to me, so I grabbed it and killed the spider before he was able to get under my bed and out of my reach. It is still sitting in a curled up ball on my bedroom floor. I was hoping Junior would eat it, but that does not seem to be his style.
On a different note - a happier one - my landlords are some of the nicest people I have ever met. My first night, when the power went out, they brought me a candle, then, during my first week, Don Adrian saw that I had my laundry hanging on the fence, so one day he knocked on my door and showed me the clothes line he had just finished putting up for me. Twice they have sent one of the kids over to give me some fruit called “nancys,” which I really don’t like, and I finally got the courage up to tell them that the other day. They always invite me over to watch TV, which I usually don’t take them up on, and they are always inviting me over to eat. They are currently building a really nice fence around my house for security, and they know that I want to learn to make Honduran food, so when they are making tortillas, they always let me know, so I can go observe, help and learn. So, yesterday when I was in Santa Rosa, I bought them a box of chocolate as a little thank you. They seemed to really appreciate it. Then, today, Junior managed to get out of the house when I was out for a run - I left the windows open, and he jumped right through the bars. They heard Junior meowing outside, chased him down, and took him inside their house until I got home!
I feel like I really lucked out with my living situation. I love my new house, and my landlords and their family are some of the nicest people I have ever met. Yes, sometimes I would really like to just be in my house and not be bothered, so it is frustrating when they come over just to chat, but then don‘t really even say anything, but that is just part of the culture. Other volunteers say that I should set boundaries and tell people that when my door is shut not to bother me. But, I am ok with being inconvenienced sometimes if it means forming better relationships with the people I will be living with for the next two years.
So, to add to my torture, the next day, I was showering and felt something funny on my foot. Yep, looked down and there was one of those big, black, silver -sized spiders on my foot. I jumped and screamed, and luckily was wearing flip flops so when I stomped on the little sucker, I didn’t have to touch it. That shower was over right then and there. A little later, when I was headed to bed, there was yet another one of the little buggers on my floor - another kill for the flip flop.
So, today, I was reading and out of the corner of my eye, saw something scurrying across my floor. Another spider. This one was the same size as the other, ugly black ones, but it was more of a gray and seemed to have a white stripe down its back - like a skunk-type spider. I still screamed, but luckily that trusted flip flop was right next to me, so I grabbed it and killed the spider before he was able to get under my bed and out of my reach. It is still sitting in a curled up ball on my bedroom floor. I was hoping Junior would eat it, but that does not seem to be his style.
On a different note - a happier one - my landlords are some of the nicest people I have ever met. My first night, when the power went out, they brought me a candle, then, during my first week, Don Adrian saw that I had my laundry hanging on the fence, so one day he knocked on my door and showed me the clothes line he had just finished putting up for me. Twice they have sent one of the kids over to give me some fruit called “nancys,” which I really don’t like, and I finally got the courage up to tell them that the other day. They always invite me over to watch TV, which I usually don’t take them up on, and they are always inviting me over to eat. They are currently building a really nice fence around my house for security, and they know that I want to learn to make Honduran food, so when they are making tortillas, they always let me know, so I can go observe, help and learn. So, yesterday when I was in Santa Rosa, I bought them a box of chocolate as a little thank you. They seemed to really appreciate it. Then, today, Junior managed to get out of the house when I was out for a run - I left the windows open, and he jumped right through the bars. They heard Junior meowing outside, chased him down, and took him inside their house until I got home!
I feel like I really lucked out with my living situation. I love my new house, and my landlords and their family are some of the nicest people I have ever met. Yes, sometimes I would really like to just be in my house and not be bothered, so it is frustrating when they come over just to chat, but then don‘t really even say anything, but that is just part of the culture. Other volunteers say that I should set boundaries and tell people that when my door is shut not to bother me. But, I am ok with being inconvenienced sometimes if it means forming better relationships with the people I will be living with for the next two years.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Jailbirds
Written July 31st,
As this blog is supposed to be a channel for teaching Americans about the culture here in Honduras, I have been trying to do just that. Sometimes my stories start out with that intention and then are segued onto another track, but I’m going to assume that people usually get the general understanding of the points that I sometimes try to make. I also enjoy just telling stories about my life down here and what I have been up to, which can of course be a little glimpse of how things work down here in Honduras as well.
So the story of the day, week, and maybe even the year - we’ll see how crazy my service gets - just happened last night. It, of course, started out like another normal day in Honduras, but by the end, things had become a little crazy. I know that a lot of different people read this blog, and I don’t want anyone getting the wrong ideas about the Peace Corps based on the fiestas that happen in these parts, but when you put 25+ Americans together and add booze, something is bound to happen. I have yet to write fully about any of the parties that have happened so far during my training and service for this exact reason, but this next story, I do believe is a must-tell. However, I will not be including all the details. So, for anyone wanting to join the Peace Corps, or for any Peace Corps staff that may read this, please do not judge any of our work or dedication to our projects based on one goodbye party for a few volunteers who just finished their 2-year service.
First thing’s first. Friday, I met Ashley and Amanda in Santa Rosa for lunch, and Amanda came back to my site with me as my first visitor and first guest in my new house. Saturday morning, we went to Santa Rosa together fairly early because we had a few errands to run and we wanted to get our hair trimmed! We found a salon that looked nice and was not too expensive, so we decided to go for it. We were both very nervous - when trying to explain a haircut to someone in a different language, you just don’t know how it’s going to work out! I went first because I was not quite as concerned as Amanda - my hair is pretty much always up anyway because I can’t stand to have it down in the heat. Of course, after showing him how much I wanted cut off, he ended up cutting off a whole lot more, which made Amanda even more nervous. After our 2-year stint here in Honduras, she wants to cut her hair for Locks of Love, which means she doesn’t want a whole lot cut off, just little trims here and there over the next two years; to keep it healthy. We both survived our haircuts and were relatively happy with the outcomes. Amanda’s looks great, but she was definitely freaking out about how much he ended up cutting off!
Our mission for the rest of the afternoon was to make Craig a birthday cake. We had asked Isaac, the guy who runs the hotel we were staying, if we could use the kitchen, and he gave us two thumbs up. I wanted to make a cake with Rainbow Chip frosting because that is the best frosting ever created, but unfortunately it is only sold at the grocery story that is very far away from this hotel. Santa Rosa has two parts. There is the old, colonial part of town up on the hill, and then the new part of town down below. We always spend our time in upper, colonial Santa Rosa, and only take a cab down to the other part when we need to get on the bus. For this reason, and us being cheap and not wanting to pay for two taxis, we went to the closer grocery store and got a yellow cake and chocolate frosting - the classic combination that is never a bad choice.
Before we were able to purchase the cake mix and frosting, we had a bit of confusion. Amanda and I were in the hotel and Ashley was on her way to town, so we thought she was going to stop and grab the stuff at the store before meeting up with us. But, when she arrived, she did not have the goods - there was a slight mix-up in what she thought we had said. So, we all walked to the grocery store, and of course ran into Craig right outside. I ran inside to buy the stuff while the others chatted, but Craig was on a mission so they didn’t chat for long. But, when we were walking back to the hotel, we ran into him again. He had just bought himself an oven - smaller than a regular oven, but bigger than a toaster oven - and he wanted some help carrying everything to the hotel. I stuffed the cake mix and frosting in Ashley’s bag before he could see them and ran to help him. When we arrived at the hotel, we found out that he and Jessica were going to make birthday brownies in his new oven, which meant we were all going to be in the kitchen together and our surprise birthday cake was no longer going to be a surprise. We were bummed, but in the end it all worked out because it turned out the oven in the hotel didn’t actually work!!
Before we could stat baking the goodies, we needed to buy eggs, so we ran to a nearby pulparia. What was supposed to be a very short task, ended up lasting about twenty minutes because right when we were about to leave the pulparia, it started poring down rain - basically a monsoon. It was the kind of rain that the second you step outside, you are soaked to the bone. We decided to wait it out in the pulparia until the rain let up. By the time we made it back to the hotel and began the baking process, it was already almost 5 p.m. Thankfully baking from a box, there is not much prep-time needed, so after getting back to the hotel, it took less than ten minutes for the cake to be put in the oven.
I am extremely jealous of Craig’s new oven. It was only 1,300 lempira, and the cake fit in it perfectly- you could even do two batches of cookies at one time I think, as long as you switched the upper and lower racks half way through. I really need an oven because I love to bake. But, back to the day - While I made the cake and brownies, and cleaned up the kitchen, everyone else was starting the drinking process. When the cake was done, I put it in the freezer, which shocked a lot of people. But, I talked them into just trusting me and not worrying about it. When the brownies were done, we turned into barbarians. The second they came out of the oven, the five of us each grabbed a spoon, and we ate the brownies piping hot, right out of the pan. It was pretty ridiculous actually, the brownies only lasted about three minutes. It is amazing what people will do when they haven’t had brownies in five months!
So, from here, I’m going to jump forward a couple hours. People went and ate dinner, took naps, showered, etc, etc. but, as soon as I got back to the hotel after dinner, I frosted the cake, so it was ready for consumption. Jessica had just bought a few candles for her house, so she unwrapped one and put it right in the center of the cake - you can’t have a birthday cake with out some sort of candle on it - who cares if it is a big, purple, funny-smelling, one. The cake was then defiled a little bit with a certain body part drawn into the frosting - oh we are all so mature. Once the cake was cut and the word was spread that it was up for grabs, it lasted under 20 minutes.
To jump forward another few hours of people hanging out talking, drinking, and not doing anything particularly noteworthy, we decided it was time to migrate out to a bar. It was about 11:30 by this time, and we all went to a bar that had just opened in Santa Rosa. I was under the impression that there would be dancing, which was the only reason I joined the group of people that were headed there. Apparently the DJ, who was brought down from San Pedro, started at 10:30 p.m. and was looking forward to the gringos showing up to get other people to dance. But, us gringos had a little too much pena (were a little too embarrassed) to dance in the middle of a pretty high-class bar with Hondurans sitting all around us, watching. Most volunteers left about the time one fell, knocking over a few speakers in the process - he was quickly escorted to his bed and tucked in.
Then it was dancing time. Most of the volunteers all ended up in the same club, but there were others spread out around the town. I stayed at the club, dancing until about 2 a.m. because I had been wanting to go dancing for a long time, so I wanted to get as much out of my system as possible. However, apparently, while I was getting my grove on, some serious events were taking place.
At about 1:30 a.m, a group of volunteers were walking back to the hotel, but were making all sorts of noise in the process. I mean, to be quite honest, when you have a large group of people that have been drinking, they are just going to be loud in general, but add a few crazies that spread their hyperness on to pretty much everyone they are with, then you have a group of people that are hooting and hollering all the way down the street. This usually isn’t that big of an issue, but when you decide to walk right in front of the police station, the police can get a little annoyed. A few minutes later, another group of gringos, only five of them, were walking back to the hotel after going to see who all was still left at the club, and then buying baleadas. A police truck pulled up behind this group of five volunteers, who were not doing anything, and arrested them.
I, however, did not learn of this until the next morning. I knew one of my roommates was not in our room that night, but I had assumed she ended up crashing with other volunteers in one of the other rooms - we basically had the whole hotel rented. So, at 8:30, after I had showered and was packing up all my stuff, another volunteer came into our room and told Ashley and I that five volunteers were currently in jail. We didn’t believe him at first - he is one that likes to joke. But, there was something about his tone of voice that made me think he was actually telling the truth, and then when we over heard all the volunteers outside in the courtyard talking about the same thing, we realized he was not pulling our legs!
The security officer for Peace Corps Honduras, Juan Carlos, had called a couple volunteers to help with the situation - the two oldest/”most mature and sophisticated.” They went to the jail at 7:30 a.m. to start trying to get the volunteers out of jail. At about 8:45, they came to the hotel and told us we needed to gather all the belongings of the people in jail and take them to the house of the volunteer who lives in Santa Rosa. So, a few of us worked on rounding up all their things, got a taxi and took them to the house. After that, it was just a waiting game. I was waiting to hear from the older volunteers about the situation at the jail, all day. Finally at about 1:30, me and another volunteer walked down to the central park to talk to the volunteer who was being the middle man. He told us that a whole mob of other volunteers had just gone in and visited the ones who were incarcerated. With that, I went inside to visit them, too. I didn’t realize that was allowed, otherwise I probably would have been there all day. I thought it would be better for all of us to stay away while things were getting sorted out, but I guess not. The mediator-volunteer had managed to get the jailbirds taken out of their actual jail sells, so they were all just hanging out in the courtyard of the police station.
They all looked so tired - understandable so - I sure wouldn’t have slept if spent the night in Honduran jail. As they told their story, the pieces from what we had all been hearing all day, finally fit together. All except for why they were being kept in jail for so long when they had not actually done anything. They said that they were told they were arrested for “scandalizing” that is the word used on the forms. However, none of them, or me, really know what exactly that means. I wanted to go back and see the jail cells they had spent the night in, but I was to nervous, but considering how the courtyard looked, I know that it couldn’t have been good. Apparently their was a lot of urine! They guys said actually witnessed a “beat down” in their cell during the night - and that is in their words. A few of them looked really frazzled - with the “I can’t believe I am in jail” looks on their faces. And considering they were some of the least likely people to ever end up in jail in the states or in any country, I could understand that look in their eyes.
When I went to visit, they were just waiting for the head officer/boss guy to come and sign the release forms, and then they were going to be able to go, but they had been waiting for a few hours already. It was Sunday, though, and Hondurans are not known for their rushing abilities - Ahorita, which is translated as right now - actually mean anywhere between 5 minutes and HOURS.
I ended up leaving Santa Rosa to go home at about 3 p.m. and I finally got a call at 4:30 saying they had been released - they were in Honduran jail for about 15 hours. The question on everyone’s mind is what Peace Corps is going to do about this. At this point, none of us know, but I’m sure we will find out soon enough. Nothing illegal was done, only things that are frowned upon, such as walking around at 1:30 in the morning.
Moral of this story - when you are walking around the streets of night - don’t do it so loudly, and especially not in front of a police station… obviously the Peace Corps would like us to just completely avoid these situations all together, but when you are in a foreign country and only meet up with other Americans every so often, you really want to go out and have fun. Unfortunate things can happen, and you never know when or where, but I guess those are risks that we are willing to take. Thankfully nothing terrible happened. The people who ended up in jail are all ok, nobody was hurt, and everyone still has all their belongings.
As this blog is supposed to be a channel for teaching Americans about the culture here in Honduras, I have been trying to do just that. Sometimes my stories start out with that intention and then are segued onto another track, but I’m going to assume that people usually get the general understanding of the points that I sometimes try to make. I also enjoy just telling stories about my life down here and what I have been up to, which can of course be a little glimpse of how things work down here in Honduras as well.
So the story of the day, week, and maybe even the year - we’ll see how crazy my service gets - just happened last night. It, of course, started out like another normal day in Honduras, but by the end, things had become a little crazy. I know that a lot of different people read this blog, and I don’t want anyone getting the wrong ideas about the Peace Corps based on the fiestas that happen in these parts, but when you put 25+ Americans together and add booze, something is bound to happen. I have yet to write fully about any of the parties that have happened so far during my training and service for this exact reason, but this next story, I do believe is a must-tell. However, I will not be including all the details. So, for anyone wanting to join the Peace Corps, or for any Peace Corps staff that may read this, please do not judge any of our work or dedication to our projects based on one goodbye party for a few volunteers who just finished their 2-year service.
First thing’s first. Friday, I met Ashley and Amanda in Santa Rosa for lunch, and Amanda came back to my site with me as my first visitor and first guest in my new house. Saturday morning, we went to Santa Rosa together fairly early because we had a few errands to run and we wanted to get our hair trimmed! We found a salon that looked nice and was not too expensive, so we decided to go for it. We were both very nervous - when trying to explain a haircut to someone in a different language, you just don’t know how it’s going to work out! I went first because I was not quite as concerned as Amanda - my hair is pretty much always up anyway because I can’t stand to have it down in the heat. Of course, after showing him how much I wanted cut off, he ended up cutting off a whole lot more, which made Amanda even more nervous. After our 2-year stint here in Honduras, she wants to cut her hair for Locks of Love, which means she doesn’t want a whole lot cut off, just little trims here and there over the next two years; to keep it healthy. We both survived our haircuts and were relatively happy with the outcomes. Amanda’s looks great, but she was definitely freaking out about how much he ended up cutting off!
Our mission for the rest of the afternoon was to make Craig a birthday cake. We had asked Isaac, the guy who runs the hotel we were staying, if we could use the kitchen, and he gave us two thumbs up. I wanted to make a cake with Rainbow Chip frosting because that is the best frosting ever created, but unfortunately it is only sold at the grocery story that is very far away from this hotel. Santa Rosa has two parts. There is the old, colonial part of town up on the hill, and then the new part of town down below. We always spend our time in upper, colonial Santa Rosa, and only take a cab down to the other part when we need to get on the bus. For this reason, and us being cheap and not wanting to pay for two taxis, we went to the closer grocery store and got a yellow cake and chocolate frosting - the classic combination that is never a bad choice.
Before we were able to purchase the cake mix and frosting, we had a bit of confusion. Amanda and I were in the hotel and Ashley was on her way to town, so we thought she was going to stop and grab the stuff at the store before meeting up with us. But, when she arrived, she did not have the goods - there was a slight mix-up in what she thought we had said. So, we all walked to the grocery store, and of course ran into Craig right outside. I ran inside to buy the stuff while the others chatted, but Craig was on a mission so they didn’t chat for long. But, when we were walking back to the hotel, we ran into him again. He had just bought himself an oven - smaller than a regular oven, but bigger than a toaster oven - and he wanted some help carrying everything to the hotel. I stuffed the cake mix and frosting in Ashley’s bag before he could see them and ran to help him. When we arrived at the hotel, we found out that he and Jessica were going to make birthday brownies in his new oven, which meant we were all going to be in the kitchen together and our surprise birthday cake was no longer going to be a surprise. We were bummed, but in the end it all worked out because it turned out the oven in the hotel didn’t actually work!!
Before we could stat baking the goodies, we needed to buy eggs, so we ran to a nearby pulparia. What was supposed to be a very short task, ended up lasting about twenty minutes because right when we were about to leave the pulparia, it started poring down rain - basically a monsoon. It was the kind of rain that the second you step outside, you are soaked to the bone. We decided to wait it out in the pulparia until the rain let up. By the time we made it back to the hotel and began the baking process, it was already almost 5 p.m. Thankfully baking from a box, there is not much prep-time needed, so after getting back to the hotel, it took less than ten minutes for the cake to be put in the oven.
I am extremely jealous of Craig’s new oven. It was only 1,300 lempira, and the cake fit in it perfectly- you could even do two batches of cookies at one time I think, as long as you switched the upper and lower racks half way through. I really need an oven because I love to bake. But, back to the day - While I made the cake and brownies, and cleaned up the kitchen, everyone else was starting the drinking process. When the cake was done, I put it in the freezer, which shocked a lot of people. But, I talked them into just trusting me and not worrying about it. When the brownies were done, we turned into barbarians. The second they came out of the oven, the five of us each grabbed a spoon, and we ate the brownies piping hot, right out of the pan. It was pretty ridiculous actually, the brownies only lasted about three minutes. It is amazing what people will do when they haven’t had brownies in five months!
So, from here, I’m going to jump forward a couple hours. People went and ate dinner, took naps, showered, etc, etc. but, as soon as I got back to the hotel after dinner, I frosted the cake, so it was ready for consumption. Jessica had just bought a few candles for her house, so she unwrapped one and put it right in the center of the cake - you can’t have a birthday cake with out some sort of candle on it - who cares if it is a big, purple, funny-smelling, one. The cake was then defiled a little bit with a certain body part drawn into the frosting - oh we are all so mature. Once the cake was cut and the word was spread that it was up for grabs, it lasted under 20 minutes.
To jump forward another few hours of people hanging out talking, drinking, and not doing anything particularly noteworthy, we decided it was time to migrate out to a bar. It was about 11:30 by this time, and we all went to a bar that had just opened in Santa Rosa. I was under the impression that there would be dancing, which was the only reason I joined the group of people that were headed there. Apparently the DJ, who was brought down from San Pedro, started at 10:30 p.m. and was looking forward to the gringos showing up to get other people to dance. But, us gringos had a little too much pena (were a little too embarrassed) to dance in the middle of a pretty high-class bar with Hondurans sitting all around us, watching. Most volunteers left about the time one fell, knocking over a few speakers in the process - he was quickly escorted to his bed and tucked in.
Then it was dancing time. Most of the volunteers all ended up in the same club, but there were others spread out around the town. I stayed at the club, dancing until about 2 a.m. because I had been wanting to go dancing for a long time, so I wanted to get as much out of my system as possible. However, apparently, while I was getting my grove on, some serious events were taking place.
At about 1:30 a.m, a group of volunteers were walking back to the hotel, but were making all sorts of noise in the process. I mean, to be quite honest, when you have a large group of people that have been drinking, they are just going to be loud in general, but add a few crazies that spread their hyperness on to pretty much everyone they are with, then you have a group of people that are hooting and hollering all the way down the street. This usually isn’t that big of an issue, but when you decide to walk right in front of the police station, the police can get a little annoyed. A few minutes later, another group of gringos, only five of them, were walking back to the hotel after going to see who all was still left at the club, and then buying baleadas. A police truck pulled up behind this group of five volunteers, who were not doing anything, and arrested them.
I, however, did not learn of this until the next morning. I knew one of my roommates was not in our room that night, but I had assumed she ended up crashing with other volunteers in one of the other rooms - we basically had the whole hotel rented. So, at 8:30, after I had showered and was packing up all my stuff, another volunteer came into our room and told Ashley and I that five volunteers were currently in jail. We didn’t believe him at first - he is one that likes to joke. But, there was something about his tone of voice that made me think he was actually telling the truth, and then when we over heard all the volunteers outside in the courtyard talking about the same thing, we realized he was not pulling our legs!
The security officer for Peace Corps Honduras, Juan Carlos, had called a couple volunteers to help with the situation - the two oldest/”most mature and sophisticated.” They went to the jail at 7:30 a.m. to start trying to get the volunteers out of jail. At about 8:45, they came to the hotel and told us we needed to gather all the belongings of the people in jail and take them to the house of the volunteer who lives in Santa Rosa. So, a few of us worked on rounding up all their things, got a taxi and took them to the house. After that, it was just a waiting game. I was waiting to hear from the older volunteers about the situation at the jail, all day. Finally at about 1:30, me and another volunteer walked down to the central park to talk to the volunteer who was being the middle man. He told us that a whole mob of other volunteers had just gone in and visited the ones who were incarcerated. With that, I went inside to visit them, too. I didn’t realize that was allowed, otherwise I probably would have been there all day. I thought it would be better for all of us to stay away while things were getting sorted out, but I guess not. The mediator-volunteer had managed to get the jailbirds taken out of their actual jail sells, so they were all just hanging out in the courtyard of the police station.
They all looked so tired - understandable so - I sure wouldn’t have slept if spent the night in Honduran jail. As they told their story, the pieces from what we had all been hearing all day, finally fit together. All except for why they were being kept in jail for so long when they had not actually done anything. They said that they were told they were arrested for “scandalizing” that is the word used on the forms. However, none of them, or me, really know what exactly that means. I wanted to go back and see the jail cells they had spent the night in, but I was to nervous, but considering how the courtyard looked, I know that it couldn’t have been good. Apparently their was a lot of urine! They guys said actually witnessed a “beat down” in their cell during the night - and that is in their words. A few of them looked really frazzled - with the “I can’t believe I am in jail” looks on their faces. And considering they were some of the least likely people to ever end up in jail in the states or in any country, I could understand that look in their eyes.
When I went to visit, they were just waiting for the head officer/boss guy to come and sign the release forms, and then they were going to be able to go, but they had been waiting for a few hours already. It was Sunday, though, and Hondurans are not known for their rushing abilities - Ahorita, which is translated as right now - actually mean anywhere between 5 minutes and HOURS.
I ended up leaving Santa Rosa to go home at about 3 p.m. and I finally got a call at 4:30 saying they had been released - they were in Honduran jail for about 15 hours. The question on everyone’s mind is what Peace Corps is going to do about this. At this point, none of us know, but I’m sure we will find out soon enough. Nothing illegal was done, only things that are frowned upon, such as walking around at 1:30 in the morning.
Moral of this story - when you are walking around the streets of night - don’t do it so loudly, and especially not in front of a police station… obviously the Peace Corps would like us to just completely avoid these situations all together, but when you are in a foreign country and only meet up with other Americans every so often, you really want to go out and have fun. Unfortunate things can happen, and you never know when or where, but I guess those are risks that we are willing to take. Thankfully nothing terrible happened. The people who ended up in jail are all ok, nobody was hurt, and everyone still has all their belongings.
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