A whole new world... still Honduras

Mom and Dad took a break from their retired life in the crazy Washington February weather to visit me for the second time. We spent 9 days in La Moskitia, the northeast corner and most remote area of Honduras with two other volunteers. The trip started by catching a bus to the town of Tocoa where we got in a "paila" for the trip into la Moskitia. The paila, also known as the back of a pickup, was piled with supplies and luggage with eight people piled on top. Thankfully, Mom was given a spot in the cab. She would not have done well. We considered ourselves lucky since one of the pailas traveling with us had eleven people on top of just as much stuff.
After An hour or so of pavement and a few hours of bumpy dirt road (much like all the roads in my site) we suddenly turned off the main road, onto the beach. Honduras regularly has problems with floods, heavy rain and other damage due to storms, especially on the north coast. Last October was especially bad and many areas still have not been repaired. In our naivety, we asked if the road was washed out or damaged. "No, this is the highway," replied the ayudante. I couldn't help but laugh at the multiple times he used the word "careterra", highway. We probably drove a solid 4 hours on the beach. We were lucky and hit it at low tide. The trip back we were slightly less fortunate and the awe factor of the first time was gone. Eventually passed through a few small Garifuna villages and arrived at in Batalla to take a collectivo boat to Raista, our first destination.
Raista is a small village sandwiched between the lagoon and the ocean. Everyone who lives in Raista is part of the same family, it's that small. We relaxed for the evening, enjoyed some incredible fresh fish soup with coconut milk (from the girl who doesn't like soup or fish in Honduras) and took a community tour early in the morning. Each community tour was a combination of the town history, and nature, usually pointing out all the medicinal plants and how they play into the livelihood of the people. This one even included picking coconut and to drink the water and "work up an appetite for breakfast."
From Raista (which means "Rice Point" in Miskito), we got in our dug out canoe with its tiny motor and after crossing two large lagoons, we found ourselves in the town of Brus Laguna. Brus is one of the main towns in the La Moskitia region. With about 2,000 inhabitants, it was the biggest town we saw since driving onto the beach-highway. We stayed about 2 hours away (by boat of course) in private cabañas called Yamari along a small water way. After two solid days of sitting on hard wood, between the paila and the boats, we took advantage of some free time to swim and kayak. After dinner we piled in the boat again to search for crocodiles and caiman. We saw several and our guide almost caught one. Unfortunately, the full moon inhibited us from seeing too many and the mosquitoes (the bugs not the people) sent us home after an hour and a half or so. We ended up seeing plenty more along the shores of the Rio Platano throughout the trip.
From Yamari back to Brus Laguna, we spent 5 more hours putting along up stream until we reached Las Marias, the destination for most of the few travelers to the region. The Miskito people were nomadic until the 1990s when changes in resources, the building and necessity of schools and other factors led many families to settle in the area now called Las Marias. It is only a few hundred residents and even finding a pulperia was a bit difficult. Everything that isn't grown is brought in by boat. Needless to say, the diet mostly consists of rice, beans, platanos, coconut and fish. Of all the wonderful food, our cook/hospedaje owner in Las Marias, Doña Diana, was the best. We wandered the "town" and relaxed, visited the petroglyphs (ancient carvings in rocks up river, so old no one is sure when they were done or by whom), hiked and learned about many more medicinal plants and the plight of outsiders trying to take the hard woods such as mahogany, laurel and cedar that naturally grow through out the rainforest.
The most touching moment was accompanying our guide (a different person in each community) to the petroglyphs. Until last October, her home stood on the shore by the main petroglyph, when rainstorms causing major flooding took the entire complex with it. The entire house, hospedaje, kitchen and comedor are gone. Remnants remain of the latrine. This was her first visit to the site since October. It was difficult not to feel as though we were intruding on such a personal moment as the tears quietly streaked her face.
Next stop was more hiking, the physical part of the vacation. Between our hospedaje in Las Marias and the petroglyphs lies the trailhead for Pico Dama (Old Peak), a naked volcanic cone, the outer surface long since eroded away. So, from Las Marias, 2 hours being poled up stream in canoes by our wonderful Miskito guides, 4 hours hiking through banana fields, jungle, tropical rainforest. Crossing and re-crossing the same creek (there is a dispute about the number of creek crossings but it was more than 15, 19 at most.) Sliding up, sliding down muddy trail, stopping so our main guide could find the right size and kind of tree, chop it down with a machete, strip the bark which he then used to make a rice sack into a backpack. After stopping to see various types of birds and plants, seemingly out of nowhere we arrived at the cabaña where we spent the next two nights. We enjoyed dinner made over a campfire and went to bed early (even for us Peace Corps Volunteers.) It just feels much later in the pitch blackness of the rainforest. We played word games from our mosquito-netted bunks until we felt tired enough to sleep (still probably around 8:30 or 9pm.) The next day, we hiked about 3.5 more hours up. Hiking isn't really the right word for it; much of it was closer to tree climbing. Honduran hiking trails aren't exactly what we would call "maintained" trail in the states. In many places, it can be difficult to find the trail if you don't know where you are going. Both days up, Ofracio, our local guide and mochila-maker kept telling me, "Laura, I don't know if your parents are going to make it." A fit, 40 year old mountain man and fast walker, he was especially worried about Mom. On the way down, I couldn't help but feel proud each time he commented, "Laura, su mama tiene fuerza." My mom is strong for 63! I know it was a challenge but I am proud they both made it without any major problems, mentally or physically. We took a few pictures, headed back down to the cabin to roast the chicken vienna sausages that were given to us for snacks on the hike. I didn't eat them but the Hondurans loved them. It was nice to know they didn't go to waste. The next morning we headed back down to the river and spent one more night in Las Marias. The people around La Marias demonstrated a much closer connection to the land than in other parts of Honduras. It was a pocket of clean, garbage-free nature. The flood debris hanging from branches 20-30ft off the current water surface was natural debris, grasses, tree trunks and stumps, not the old clothes, wrappers and tires filling fences and trees in the rest of the country.
The final stop was Belen, another small town near Raista on the narrow strip of land between a lagoon and the Caribbean. We enjoyed a presentation of traditional Miskito dancing on the beach, lit by bonfire. We were invited to dance with the women to the music of a metal washboard, a turtle shell and a guitar. We rose at 3am the next morning to reverse the trip and head back to Tocoa, La Ceiba and finally Talanga. My parents spent a few more days in my site, visiting neighbors, host family and schools before flying back home.
Since their visit, I have been busy starting my final long-term projects. With only 6 months to go, any thing long term has to be started now if I want to complete it before my time is up. Crazy thought, but yes, the end of service is looming closer and closer with each week. What next....?

Below is a link to some photos from La Moskitia. Let me know if you can't access them and I will try something else.

The other two photos are of my dental hygiene program at school.

http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=274595622/a=56712873_56712873/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish

Fotos, por fin

scuba Team Rock.
Marta and I with my Spanish dive instructor

We rock!

Sunrise from Sandy Cay (near Utila)

You asked for pictures... here is a sample of Christmas and Marta's visit in January.

Latest Bello update: his castration healed (hence the home-made Elizabithean collar and look of defeat), he has been experiencing separation anxiety with all my absences and I just learned that he is a great mouse catcher! Yes, I had a mouse in my house! I was annoyed. I was in the shower the day I saw the mouse in the bathroom. On the other side of the wall, I heard Bello sniffing, then a squeak. When I got out of the bathroom, Bello was playing with a still breathing but stunned mouse in the back yard. He cowered like he was expecting punishment but I praised him for a great job cating the mouse. Good boy Bello!!

Pelican on our dock on Sandy Cay

First host mom and sis

Drunk grandma enjoying life

Marta's first Honduran dance lesson

Everyone taking pictures, it was quite the site

Making Nacatamales at the host fam's

Bello, immediately after front door surgery.

This year's nacimiento (manger scene)

Pin the star on the Christmas tree with my now 3rd graders

Family photo above Talanga

Same Christmas party, waiting their turn with their stars

Nacatamales for Christmas

Yep, Nacatamales, it's quite the process

Host mom

So Busy...

...with vacation. : ) Marta left today after 3 weeks in Honduras and almost 2 of those we ran all over the country. We did everything from scuba diving, to relaxing on a private island to conquering (and it was quite the 9.5 hour conquest) the highest peak in Honduras. We also did some other hiking, plenty of family visits, cooked some great food, both Honduran and other. I intended to fill in details but they will have to wait. I am burnt out of catching up on emails and trying to transition back into that thing called "work." The internet is also being finicky so I will have to fill in details and photos later. Soon. Miss and love you all and looking forward to my next few visitors.

"Oh yeah, I'm here"

Funny things happen here. Sometimes I almost forget I am in a strange other world. Sometimes, I am reminded by strange and/or amusing events. As I rushed through a bustling grocery store in Tegus last week, I had one of those, "Oh yeah, I am here" moments. I passed by a sample table. Not so strange. But when you look to see what they youthful girls in matching "La Colonia" shirts are passing out, it's booze. Guaro actually. Aguardiente, commonly known as "Guaro," is a Honduran liquor made from sugar cane. It's strong, dirt cheap and tastes like it. This was not the first time I have seen liquor samples in a supermarket here but every time it makes me laugh. That would NEVER fly in the States (for better or for worse). Come to think of it, I can't recall seeing any sort of sample here besides alcohol. I am sure I have, just not that I can recall. I guess because that would be so "normal."
Behavior toward alcohol is very interesting. Guaro is abundant and often abused by drunks due to its affordable price. There are 4 national beers, all mediocre (in my opinion). "Wine" can refer to anything that isn't beer or hard liquor, including liqueurs. I noticed wine and "wine" (Boones Farm) on the tables at a high school graduation. I thought it a bit funny that the Argentinean bottle on one table and Boones on the next. I also predicted that the majority of the people (mostly parents and godparents) would prefer the Boones, too bad decent wine goes to waste without appreciation and maybe even a little disgust. I was entertained thoroughly when the table next to me started trying to open their corked bottle. The graduate tore off the label at the top of the bottle expecting a screw cap like on the other bottles. They passed the bottle around for about 15 minutes trying everything from shaking the bottle to pop the cork to picking at it and trying to pull it out with the ice tongs. (By the way, several tables put their red wine on ice as well.) When my table picked up their own bottle to open it, I warned them that they needed a corkscrew. The response: "no Laura, but this is wine." "Exactly, it is wine, you need a corkscrew." They were a bit befuddled but luckily didn't try shaking the bottle. Someone must have come prepared. Finally people figured out which table to go to for a corkscrew. I know it is just a lack of exposure to such things but I still found it entertaining.

I play soccer with a varying group of women and girls on the weekends. We are technically in a tournament in Tegucigalpa but most weekends we don't end up going for one reason or another (no field, the field is flooded, the other team can't make it, etc.) Last time we played 9 vs 9. It was the best game of women's soccer I have seen here. I like playing because it is something to do, great exercise, I am getting to know some of the girls pretty well and honestly, it's great for my self-esteem. Many weekends we go to fields not farm from town and play the team in the next municipality or from aldeas nearby. Last weekend we made one of these aldea trips. Never mind that I was told we were going at 11, when I arrived was told 12:30 then we finally left about 1:30. That is all normal. It was some of the worst soccer I have seen. I got bored playing defense so asked to play forward to get some exercise. I normal request to play anywhere BUT forward. I don't like making runs with my back to the goal, it's unnatural for me. I guess that just comes from so many years of playing behind and/or level with the ball. Anyway... The games are just for fun and it is a wonderful opportunity for some of the women and girls to get out of the house and away from cleaning and cooking (yes that is still the current role of many women here). Sometimes I wonder where you draw the line. It's a friendly scrimmage but should the goal keeper be allowed to hand the ball to another player, who takes it in her hands and punts? Should you be allowed to dribble away at a place kick? I thought you had to pass the ball first. It is all in fun and we don't worry about minor details like that, or shin guards or footwear. In the middle of the second half (I think it was about 8-0, us) one of the best players from the other team dropped back by her goal and started taking off her shoes. I thought she had a rock in or shoe or something, until she took off the other. Off went the socks as well. I heard her say, "I can't play with these." Assuming she meant the socks or shin guards. Nope, she meant the cleats. The next thing I knew, she was playing barefoot amidst girls in cleats, converse and tennis. That's the campo for you and that was another, "Oh yeah, I'm here" moment. During the same game, several girls just sat down on the field. J-rod would have had a conniption!
The futbolito final and carnaval in the park after was cancelled/postponed because they didn't have the prizes (soccer balls, trophies, $$$). I don't know if the mayor's office didn't leave them available, the trophies weren't made in time or someone pocketed the money. I have no idea but the event hasn't happened yet. You would think they had time to prepare, the tournament started in around the first of October. Teams of 5 (including keeper) play soccer on a cement court (basketball size) with a miniature ball. You should see the slide tackles these guys will do on the cement! The semi-final was intense and I was looking forward to seeing the final. Most of the town was ready. There isn't much of a night life in Talanga, therefore, when there is something to do, people are ready and just about everyone goes. Canceling the futbolito final meant a bunch of people were out, ready and now had nothing to do. I stood in my doorway watching foot traffic and talking to a neighbor. Bello lay at my feet waiting for someone to make the move toward the door so he could bark at them and protect me. He is such a good vigilante. Five guys walked past my house. Across the street they stopped, 2 guys ran back toward the park. That was weird. No reaction from Bello. The neighbor said they are ladrones (translation: robbers, or generally mischievous bad people.) A few minutes later, the others turned to head back toward the park (the direction from which they came.) As they passed my house, Bello started barking up a storm and ran toward one guy. I had to blink, make sure what I saw was true. Most people pick up rocks and cock their arm, ready to throw. This guy pulled a gun. He pointed it at the dog threateningly as I called Bello back to the house. Was the dog supposed to be afraid of the gun pointed at him? Seriously Dude, what good is that going to do? I guess you are ready if he lunges or bites. Thankfully, the dog came back to me, the guy turned and continued down the street, gun hidden away in his pants again. I think the neighbor was right, they probably are ladrones. I wonder if that is why Bello randomly freaks out at certain people walking by. Are they carrying guns? It's quite likely; many men here are packing heat. Who knows, but I hope I never see my dog held up again, I guess its better him than me.

Yes, I survived Christmas. The Danish Pastries were a hit. My host mom even asked for me to teach her to make them and the family joked about selling them. I spent both the 24th and 25th in my site, passing in and out of the host family's house. It was rather uneventful and didn't really feel like Christmas. I did enjoy one of the best meals I have had in quite a while: baked, stuffed chicken that actually had meat on the bones! WHOA!

Happy Holidays!
I was going to post pictures of making Nacatamales and Pin the Star on the Christmas Tree but you will have to wait because the computer won't let me upload now.

Tis the Season, or something...

Once again, Christmas is upon us and I am completely confounded by it. It just doesn't feel like Christmas. While I hear (at least parts) of Washington are experiencing the coldest temperatures in almost 20 years, I am getting sunburnt and impatiently awaiting my first scuba diving experience. Without snow, cold weather and being assulted by holiday sales, it just doesn't feel like the season is here. Although I appreciate the peace that comes from the lack of advertisements (not that they don't exist here, I am just isolated from them, no tengo TV), I miss seeing streets of houses lit up with little white lights and Christmas trees poking through windows. Many people here have Christmas trees but due to serious deforestation issues, most of them are artificial. Inside some houses it does feel a bit festive but since many people keep their doors, curtains and shutters closed preventing me catching a glimpse of their "arboles navideños". There are periodic decorative encounters that make me laugh. For example, the giant inflatable snowman hanging from a second story window (multiple stories in and of themselves are quite uncommon). The enourmous Frosty lasted about a day before losing all its air and hanging limply. Here, instead of hanging lights the common activity is to paint your house. I am amazed how frequently people change the colors, inside and out. My neighbors house is change from green bricks to yellow, the mortar is still white.

To bring a little American tradition to Honduras, I decided to make paper snowflakes with my summer school kids. I agreed to teach English to a group of 2nd-going-on-3rd graders during vacation. We skipped the English yesterday to make Christmas cards and snowflakes. Even though they can't imagine real snow, they loved cutting up paper to make pretty designs. Tuesday we are having a party. That means I have to come up with Christmas activities and make gingerbread cookies. Although I am not a huge gingerbread fan, it's too traditional to pass up. (And I don't want to buy food coloring and put the time into red and green frosted sugar cookies. The more intricate types, the ones I like, either would not be appreciated or ingredients are too hard to find.)

As for actual Christmas, I plan to dine at midnight (as is tradition) with my host family on the 24th and fulfill my family tradition by making Danish pastries for breakfast with them on the 25th. Really, it's all just keeping myself busy until I can meet Marta at the airport on the 26th.

Thing I love: the ridiculously popular trend of drivers putting the seatbelt over one arm or across their lap but not buckling it. Occassionaly, this is due to broken seatbelts but the majority of the time, that does not seem to be the case. They police enforce the lax seatbelt law from time to time but most people don't want to wear them.

Thing I hate: cuetes (firecrackers), still.

photos: girls in my English class making snowflakes and christmas cards, 6th graders performing at graduation, and my favorite sign in Talanga, a paper on the side of a house stating, "for sale information"; I think they mean the house is for sale but it's still funny (and it's been there as long as I have). Also, a few from the waterfall near Lake Yojoa.

Let there be LIGHT!

I left the "cave" and am officially in my new house! I moved almost an entire block. I am actually so close that it was easier to move my bed and table (my only furniture, still) by hand rather than load it in a truck. Actually, I recruited a couple of boys to do it for me since those things are bit awkward for one person. I am really excited about the move despite giving up several wonderful things in the old house. Of course, "wonderful" is a relative term. Here is the low down:

I Gave up... fruit trees (mangos, limes, oranges, I don't miss the nances and if you don't know what they are you aren't missing anything. I think the smell like vomit yet Hondurans love them.)

"tanque": aka running water in the bathroom

A land lady who would feed Bello if I left town for the night or a few and he didn't have to go anywhere and had 2 other dogs to play with in the shared backyard.

A porch in which my hammock hung.

An extremely awkward floorplan where you had to pass through the bedroom to go from the living room to the kitchen.

A nice bathroom but it was outside.

Built in closet/shelf thing.

Wood panneled ceiling which insulated but added to the darkness.

Virtually ZERO natrual light.

I now have... 0 trees or desireable plants, just a few weeds.

to bucket shower and bucket-flush the toilet. Except Monday and Friday mornings when water comes, usually.

My OWN space! I'm still on good terms with the old landlady so Bello can go visit. We now don't have untrained dogs interferring with our "rigorous training schedule" (or something like that).

No porch, just a slightly more central locale with MUCH more traffic (mostly foot, cow and horse, still a few pigs.)

Great floor plan that feels more like a normal home.

Bathroom inside! Although, privacy is limited since the "door" between the living room and bedroom is a curtain and the bathroom door (to the bedroom) is glass, clear glass! Good thing I live alone.

Wonderful neighbors who starting looking after me from day one. One of them even mopped the house for me before I moved in!

No where to put my clothes. As a result, I am completely unmotivated to unpack and am once again living out of a suitcase.

A metal roof which will NOT be plesant once dry season hits.

An eleven year old neighbor girl who likes to just come hang out and tell me how nice the house is.

NATURAL light!!!! I definitely prefer waking up to the light and dog than the old landlady's birds sqwaking.

I definitely miss a few things (a flushing toilet and cold shower) but am extremely pleased with the move. It is also good motivation to take Bello for walks/runs since he no longer has a lap dog to play with. It was like a stuffed animal that plays back.

Thanksgiving was good and I think it will continue to be. Instead of not celebrating, I am doing it twice. The Passionist volunteers, their boss and her husband, another PCV and I had a traditional turkey dinner last night and enjoyed some family games and speaking English. Saturday, I plan to celebrate again in Siguatepeque with some other PCVs and some bilingual school teachers. Thanksgiving day was good, despite not spending it with family. Playing "pass the phone" definitely helped as I was able to speak to several family members and was filled in on the goings-on. It's always hard spending holidays away from the family. It's never quite the same but as with all of life, we make do with what we have.

Work wise, I am still working on my world map kids and starting a few youth groups. School is out for the year so I am trying to stay busy during the vacation and am enjoying working with the girls who want to show up. I am posting a picture of WorldMap girls but every time I start working and forget to take pictures. Baseball continues with both teams. It is frustrating having a different group of kids every week and that increases the challenge to make progress. There is a small core group of kids who come almost every week but a large portion varies greatly. While consistency and progress can be difficult, it is wonderful being able to reach more kids and offer them something new. If they like it, they will come back.

Speaking of baseball, if anyone has a few old gloves they would like to donate, my sister is coming to visit just after Christmas (I am volunteering you, Marta) and equipment is always appreciated. While my team has enough equipment, Peace Corps is trying to start as many teams as possible and many of the other teams only have 9-11 gloves, or fewer for their entire group. Just let me know and we will get them distributed to expand the project.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Doorjambs are for Shelter

Growing up on a faltline in the Northwest, I clearly remember earthquake drills and learning about the safest places in the case of an earthquake. If you cannot get outside, away from buildings or other tall objects, a doorjamb is supposed to be one of the sturdiest places. Wednesday night, I discovered that doorjambs also serve as a suitable shelter from firework shells.
The past week Talanga has been celebrating the town’s patron saint San Diego. Wednesday was the big night including mass and a fireworks show! Although firecrackers are extremely popular, (especially between the hours of 4:00 and 5:00am) fireworks, you know, with pretty colors, are not common. I have now seen them twice in my 16 months in this country; last time was for Independence Day during training. My first Honduran firework experience was one of shock and awe. Not because of the number of fireworks, or how big they were but because of the proximity. Explosives were set up in the street between the Catholic church and the cancha (cement court) in Parque Central. The distance between the two is the width of a two lane street, without a shoulder. The entire town crowded to the edge of the street. The fireworks literally went off above our heads. Until this second show, I forgot about the one thing that made people back up a bit. The first firework finally went up in Talanga, “Oooh!” Expression of awe and beauty from the crowd. Immediately followed by, “Ooh!” Expression of surprise and fear as a shell landed within two feet of me. My three host siblings and I took quick cover in the only thing available, a closed doorway. The house we stood against didn't even have overhanging eves. The four of us hudled close for shelter as we watched the lights in the sky and the shells falling in front of us, some still attached to 2-3 foot sticks. Needless to say, safety standards here just wouldn't hold up in the States. Sometimes, this can be appreciated, even enjoyed (think climbing ridiculously steep stairs/ladders to un obstructed views at the top of Mayan ruins). The utter lack of people waiting to file a law suit is beautiful. At the same time, I don't dare climb aboard a carnival ride here. Well, I may consider a man powered ferris wheel as Kyler did. Seriously, man-powered, as in, a guy reaching up and pulling the rungs to make it move. Oh, I love Honduras.

Other than ferria, I have been BUSY! hooray! I am working on a World Map project with 6th graders. We spent all week painting the wall and drawing the world on it. We are almost done and should start painting the countries tomorrow. This project has provided an excellent opportunity to get to know the kids a little better and I am having fun but it is extremely frustrating as well. Most of the frustration is my fault and I am now motivated to do the project again with a different group of skills so I can put my hindsight to use. First, never try to draw a grid on an uneven brick wall, especially with sixth graders who are unfamiliar with the process. Second, check their work constantly. It looks like the get it, and are doing well, only to find out after a good start, they proceeded to cram three squares worth of map into one, TWICE! Also, work in small blocks of time with small groups of kids. Their attention goes so quickly. In the end, I did a lot more of the work than I would have liked. Now I know.

Photos include the frequent siting of cattle herding down the highway, my 6th grade world map kids working away, the same kids playing in the school yard (they have no toys so a few abandonded 4x4s became teeter-totters) and photos from the Copan to Cabañas (Rachel's site) hike. That was a great time and it was good to see friends again. I will try to update more frequently but my communication skills have been lacking lately.

PS: I HAVE A REFRIGERATOR! I know, that sounds strange but yes, I have been living with out one for the last year and bring a little baby one home today. I finally caved.