2:00pm December 24 I realize it really is Christmas. The weather and not doing any Christmas shopping allowed me to avoid this reality until this moment. I was “helping” my old host family set up their nativity scene. [Side note: Notice that Baby Jesus is bigger than Mary, Joseph, the Wisemen on their camels and pretty much everything else, except the chimney which seems unnecessarily large. Also notice the people below are bigger than the houses. Scale and continuity of the characters/figures don’t seem to be issues. I have seen several others including a large community display with the same issue. Oh, and yes, you do see a wedding, plastic tractor and match box cars. I don’t get it but of course I told the family I liked it.]

I figured Christmas would hit me eventually. Despite several invitations, I almost spent Christmas day alone. I realized a few days before that in all likelihood I would remember that it really was Christmas and yes, I really was spending it alone doing absolutely nothing. Fearing the resulting depression and loneliness, I intruded on the Catholic missionaries for Christmas dinner. I know, for the cultural experience, I probably should have accepted one of the other invites, but honestly, I didn’t think I could handle watching another family’s celebration. We did have Hondurans in our midst (the mission director married a Honduran), so I think that covers the cultural bases. The 24^th is the big day of celebration here so I didn’t seem to miss anything.

Before watching the creation of the nativity scene, I helped my host family make nacatamales, a Christmas tradition for many people here. Nacatamales are filled with rice, potatoes, meat (usually chicken), a raisin, green olive, a piece of pig skin (not joking and I wish I had not discovered that) and whatever else the maker would like to add. They are wrapped up in banana leaves and boiled for 2 hours on a fagon (fireplace). They take the entire day to make and we made 50 tamales! Apparently, that was minor compared to the 70+ my family usually makes. Almost a week later I am still being offered tamales since everyone makes plenty to give away and now everyone is trying to pawn them off on someone else. The tamales are good, but I couldn’t eat them breakfast lunch and dinner for a week straight. You also have to be a little cautious when you eat them. It is a common practice here not to take the meat off the bone or remove large chunks of fat when putting them in foods such as tamales, taquitos, etc. I have also eaten fish soup here, with an entire fish, head to tail, sitting in a bowl of broth and vegetables. Priorities. Taking meat off the bones just isn’t high on the list here. The first time I bit into a bone when I expected rice and small pieces was a shock. Now I know to pay attention to what I am eating and break it up with a fork a little before diving in.

Other than the montage nativity scenes and blaring heat, Christmas isn’t too different here. There is however, a traditional midnight meal and countdown to Christmas day on the night of the 24^th. For some reason this was left out of every discussion I had with people about Christmas celebrations. I learned about the midnight meal about an hour and a half before it happened. Oddly, when I asked the missionaries if they knew about the midnight meal, they responded “we found out last night, when we were served.” Some families give presents on Christmas day, some wait until January 6 when the wisemen arrive, others forgo gift-giving due to the cost or do a Secret Santa exchange. I suppose giving gifts on the 6^th makes more sense considering the religious significance of giving gifts at Christmas.

Over the last month I heard many of the same Christmas tunes (often in English but not always) I always hear. Although the songs were the same, the frequency was MUCH lower, I never felt bombarded by “holiday joy”. Christmas music was actually a bit of a rarity. One Christmas song, then back to the regeton. Maybe the lack of Christmas music added to the “it’s not Christmas” feelings. I remembered Christmas approaching when I entered business or homes and saw the fake trees decorated. I forgot again the minute I left.

At times, spending Christmas away from my real family was difficult. The funny thing, is that if I had been home, I wouldn’t have done much differently, just with different people, I would have been bundled up. Ok, I probably would have played in the snow and would not have come home from church to find the power out, but celebration wise it wasn’t that different. I would have eaten a lot more if I had been home. I had enough, but there weren’t any Christmas goodies lying around to snack on for days or weeks on end (maybe a good thing). I miss Christmas cookies. I don’t miss any one kind in particular, just having the montage and choices begging to be eaten. I also missed Mom’s Danish pastries, a Christmas morning tradition. Instead, I had a cup of coffee and a nacatamale. Good, not the same.

I worried that talking to my family would be the most difficult thing to do. It turned out to be the easiest. I almost broke down talking to my favorite nephew. G-Man singing “Jingle Bells” is probably what I sound like singing in Spanish. A few words are quite clear, others are complete jibberish. Hearing an 18-month-old sing and call the dogs is precious, but when he says “Bye bye Lolo… I love you” I about died.

Despite the lack of Christmas shopping, I have kept busy. I painted my kitchen and a local carpenter made a table for my kitchen. Yea! I have a counter! You have no idea how easily I can be pleased. Granted, I still only have one uncomfortable stool so if I have guests, we will either have to stand or sit on the floor. Sorry for the long entry and rambling. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas (or holiday of your choice) and have an excellent New Year!

PS: Several people have asked me about my address. I have not changed it and haven’t yet decided whether I will or not. I can always pick up mail at the Peace Corps office in Tegus. If you send something there, I should get it. Si Dios quiere.

PHOTOS: My host mom making nacatamales. Host sister tying the banana leaves so they don’t fall apart while cooking. Nacatamales. The nativity scene, for scale, the chimney is wide enough for me to easily sit inside and the entire scene occupies half the porch, wall to wall.

My first visitor

I apologize for skipping over the details last time but here’s the rundown. Traci’s visit was excellent, although short. Between me attending a required meeting and her traveling from San Pedro Sula, we lost the first day. We had a plan for a few of my friends to meet her for dinner until I could get back from my meeting. I panicked briefly after receiving two messages asking “where is your sister, I can’t find her!” Initially, I thought she was abducted or something after arriving in Tegus. Rachel calmed my nerves by pointing out the likelihood that she was still on the bus. If she missed the one she intended, she may have had to wait awhile for the next. Buses often run on “Honduran time” also, which means a 2:00 bus may not leave until 2:30 or 3:00, maybe even later. Then again, it could leave at 1:50, you never know. In the end, she was fine. I forgot to warn her about “Honduran time” prior to her visit and she had to get on a later bus which, of course, left an hour behind schedule. Luckily, it all worked out.

We spent the first night together in Tegus with a few of my friends here. The next morning we took a bus back to Talanga to drop off her luggage and all of the wonderful things she brought me! A few Christmas presents, food and some items I had left home can really make a PCV’s day, or month. Any one of those things is pretty amazing, you can’t even imagine how excited I still am about all of it. I pushed it all way to enjoy later since I had the pleasure of my sister’s company. Now, I am enjoying the things she brought such as wine, my favorite sweatpants, a sweatshirt, slippers, books, and yes, chocolate! I love my family!
The pit stop in Talanga was brief, we spent just a few short hours unloading and repacking for a weekend trip to Yuscaran, El Paraiso. 1 ½ hours back to Tegus, then another 2 hours to Yuscaran for their feria, plenty of bus time. In Yuscaran, we enjoyed a visit to the local museum, an old mansion built during the peak of the town’s mining era and regional importance, a tour of the Guaro factory (a vodka like alcohol, the local brew: cheap and potent), and a little burro polo. Yes, burro polo, like polo on horses, but with donkeys. I finally got to ride a donkey! Don’t worry, Traci took plenty of pictures. Of course, between donkey riding experience, and beating the crap out of their donkeys, the Hondurans demolished the Peace Corps team. Despite the loss, it was quite entertaining. I now fully understand the meaning behind the phrase “stubborn as an ass”. In the evening, several of us saw our first, and likely last, Cock Fight. It was bloody. I was a little bored until I watched the owner suck the blood out of his roosters face and blow it on the ground. A drop landed on my arm. "It's ok, I eat chickens, it's no different." The sucking of the blood was a little much.

We made it back to Talanga to spend a few busy days in my sight. Although she hasn’t played baseball since about 5^th grade, she got to test her skills with my team of “8-12” year olds. Unfortunately, I am discovering that my best players are 13 and 14 and therefore ineligible for the Peace Corps League in April and May. Vamos a ver. She also witnessed my amazing teaching skills as she helped teach English to “first graders” (aka whoever shows up to the first grade classroom that day, most of them around 5 or 6 but they probably range from 4 to 9). She also experience one of the biggest issues for PCV’s in Honduras, getting people to show up to meetings. Hondurans are very nice. I am appreciative of this trait but sometimes it leads to problems. People want to be nice so they say they want to help with things and participate, but when it comes to showing up, sometimes they just don’t.

Like I said, the visit was short, and after teaching English in the morning, we were on another bus heading to the airport. I really appreciated her visit and am doing surprisingly well in the aftermath… not too depressed or lonely. I think having my own house (and SPEAKERS!) makes a big difference. It’s nice to have my own space to come and go as I please and just chill out without worrying about other people. If I wasn’t selfish before, I think I am becoming more so, rarely having to consider other people as I come and go, but that’s another story. Until next time…

Who gets shot?

Some of you have heard this story, but for the rest, it happened about a week and a half ago.

Yes, I got shot. In the head. By a BB gun. Yes, I am laughing about it. Who does that? Who gets shot with a BB and doesn't even realize what it is? I was sitting against a lamppost in the parque central, about 7-7:30pm, integrating, talking to a Honduran guy. I was thinking about going home because I was cold but hadn't found a break in the conversation to do so. All of a sudden something hit me in the back of the ear, right where my ear connects to my head. I thought I got caught in the crossfire of kids throwing rocks at each other. They do that. We (the kids I had been talking to and I) looked all over the ground for a rock but couldn't find one. I could feel a little bump behind my ear but I thought it was a blood vessel or some part of my body swelling up. When I felt it, I saw blood on my fingers. We walked across the street to a pulperia (like a convenient store) to get something to clean up the blood. The pulperia owner came around from behind the counter to look. "You didn't get hit with a rock, there is a BB stuck in your head!" Awesome.

There are still a few booths up with carnival games and food from the feria. I don't know if the attendants got bored and decided to take a shot directly at me, if they were shooting at something else, if it was an accident altogether, or if it was a very long ricochet. I have no idea and probably never will. We spent about 2 hours looking for an open doctor's office or someone who would see me. Not just the guy I had been talking to and I, but his entire family came along (whom I had never met previously)! The PCMO (PC Dr.) wanted me to go to Tegus so she could deal with it. The problem was getting to Tegus. Traveling at night is not the safest thing to do so everyone is hesitant. PC could send someone to get me if no one in my site could take me, I just have to tell them to do so. The problem was getting a straight answer. Everyone was trying to be helpful, but sometimes, that doesn't result in much actual help. I felt a little left out of the entire process, like a bystander. It's my freaking head! My frustration with running around town and having to ask the PCMO to wait every time she called was greater than my pain. Finally, someone suggested I go to the RedCross office and have them take me in the ambulance. I didn't need an ambulance, but if it was a ride to Tegus, I'll take it. I stopped to get my toothbrush since I would not be back until the next day. About 3 blocks from my house, we got out of the car, again. "Where are we? I asked" "La doctora." We found one. The PCMO had asked to speak to the doctor if we found one before they did anything. Despite this request, the doctora removed the BB. Just then, the concerned PCMO called, again. I ended up with a stitch or two behind my ear and was allowed to stay in Talanga for the night. (It doesn't meet the 4 stitch rule, but does having a foreign object removed boost the value?) Luckily, I bought a bed Thursday and didn't have to sleep on the floor again.

Yes, I kept the BB, at first to show the PCMO. Now it resides in my journal. I had to wait to share this ridiculous story until AFTER Traci's (hopefully) successful visit. Who gets shot in the head with a BB gun? I wasn't even doing anything wrong and there were kids playing all over the park!

Love and miss you. Yes, I am fine. As if the Hondurans didn't already think I was crazy, now they probably think I am completely nuts, laughing as I have a bullet stuck in my head!

Good news, I now have a bed. You can see all of the furniture I had in the last entry. Yes, the camping pad and sleepin bag were my bed until Thursday night and yes, I used a towel for a pillow. It felt like so much stuff every time I packed and moved from one house to the next. Now I realize how many things I don't have. How many things I will have to buy. The big stuff is obvious. I bought a bed and a small, 2 burner stovetop which resides on the tile floor. That used almost all of my move-in allowance. A borrowed stool serves as my only seat and counter, obviously it can't be both at once. I am still shopping for a toaster oven but it is all the small things that are killing me. I have a small pot, coffee mug and glasses. I can eat out of the mug or pot but have no silverware. That limits what I can eat a little. Mom, after all those years of scolding me for eating with my fingers, the practice is paying off. Hondurans don't use forks very often anyway, but they use tortillas to eat. I don't have tortillas or means to make them yet. I also realized that I brought a set of sheets but if I want to wash them I will have to buy another set. Or use the sleeping bag again. There are so many little things I haven't accumulate and I am dragging my feet about doing so. In time, I know I will have more than necessary.

While slowly furnishing my house, life and work continue. Classes are still winding down and there is a graduation or "promocion" almost everyday. The ceremonies I have witnessed were both similar to American graduations but much more attention is paid to each student. The classes are obviously smaller (there were 44 at the 6th grade graduation I went to yesterday) but giving diplomas still takes close to an hour. In stead of asking the audience to hold the applause until the end, the audience is requested to applaud each student, usually twice. Quite the long process but it is nice to see that each kid is recognized. The all looked so proud in their caps and gowns. At first, I attributed this to the fact that few kids make it through 6th grade so it is a significant accomplishment. Now that I think about it, I wonder if it is quite similar to our 8th grade or junior high/middle school graduation. I don't remember being proud, but I remember feeling very excited about no longer being a "middle schooler" and moving on to high school. I can't pretend to know exactly how those kids felt, especially since I don't even remember how I felt at a similar point in my life.

Another major difference between their graduations and ours is the food. After the ceremony, there is a full meal served. I can't complain about a free 4pm meal that covers both lunch and dinner. Especially since my cooking means are quite limited at the moment. Hondurans love to eat and they rarely have any sort of meeting or event without food. A full meal for the teachers, staff and families present is more than I would expect and more than you would ever find at an American graduation. Throughout the ceremony and meal a photographer snaps pictures of everything. Mostly very posed, serious faced pictures. The kids can ask to have their picture taken with teachers and family members if they choose. I don't know what happens with the pictures after, if each child or family can choose to buy each print or what. I felt very honored to have some of the kids request pictures with me since I have only been with them once a week for the last month and a half or so. I am intrigued by the apparent desire to have pictures taken giving/receiving gifts. Of course, each child gets a photo receiving their diploma. Many also choose to have their picture taken in a similar fashion, with a parent or sibling handing a wrapped gift or gift bag (usually with English slogans like, "glad to be a grad") to the graduate. Hondurans also tend to take serious photos, rarely smiling, but I think smiling for pictures is a fairly American thing to do.

Things are still giong fairly well. I have another story but it will have to wait...

I will try to upload pictures again but you never know