11/26/2006

Accion de Gracias

I have heard it said that Thanksgiving is the only holiday maintaining some sort of semblance to its original intentions. While holidays such as Christmas, Easter, and even smaller ones such as Memorial Day have strayed from their meanings, Thanksgiving is still a day set aside to feast together and give thanks for the bounties and blessings in our lives.

I have so many things to be thankful for, and many of those things that I have overlooked in the past have made themselves more visible in my life. When people ask what its like here and I tell them of the hardships that come with being a foreigner (a rich white one at that) in a place wrought with extreme poverty, I am not quite sure if I am making it clear that I am so happy here. Being in this situation, I am made more acutely aware of the undeserved, overabundant blessings from God in my life, and in this situation you cannot help but feel joy. I am thankful for warm showers (because with this I am an minority here) and for the times when I have electricity at the flick of a switch. I'm not sure when the change came where normally I'd be mad that I dare be inconvenienced but a power outage to the point where I am thankful that its on, but it happened. I am so thankful that I have health and education and some control (to a degree) over my future--I can choose to leave here and never see poverty again if I so desired, whereas these people have no such option. Many have hardly ever been out of the barrio that they grew up in, and do not or will not ever have the means to do so. I am so thankful that I do not go to bed hungry, that I can pile on clothes to keep me warm, crawl under blankets at night, and get a full nights sleep before I go to my job with benefits, that pays for all my needs as well as my desires at this point. I can't help but have more joy now than I have ever had in my life because I know that as I continue to learn the language, connect with people, and become better at teaching that my joy will increase even more.

With that aside, Jen and I took our Thanksgiving break and traveled to Nicaragua to this amazingly beautiful beach as a way to escape the cold weather in the mountains. Yes, it has been cold here---legitimately cold, to the point where we have cancelled 2 days of school. From our bus I got to see hours of the beautiful Honduran countryside, which is some of the prettiest that I have ever seen in my life. As far out as you can see there are blue-green mountains completely undisturbed except for the occasional small pueblo with the stark-white cathedral standing out against the lush greenery--a sort of lighthouse to the rest of the country letting others know that yes, there are people out there. We also got to see nearly the entire Pacific Coastline of Nicaragua since our beach town was only 12 km from the border of Costa Rica.

Wednesday night we arrived in Managua, the capital city of Nicaragua. This place completely exceeded my expectations...I have always heard how dirty and dangerous Managua was, and after pulling into the city and spending a full day there I was surprised at how new and clean everything looked and how the neighborhood where the bus terminal was in the "bad section" of town looked nicer than many, many parts of Tegus. Sort of puts things in perspective. Recently Daniel Ortega was elected president of Nicaragua, who is the leader of the FSLN (Frente Sandinista de LiberaciĆ³n Nacional) party---pretty socialist in nature. Ortega was president when the U.S. invaded during the Civil War in the early 90's, and even though this poor little country has been tugged and pulled by the world super-powers to "join their side," the general population benefitted from this type of government and thus elected Ortega again. This, I feel, is the problem with a two-party election system: One party is inevitably for elite portions of the population while the other who promises to protect and serve the common man might be corrupt, but there are no other options so people are left to choose the lesser of two evils. But anyways, I need not launch into political debates at this point. I brought all this up because Daniel Ortega erected some pretty impressive statues to support the FSLN movement, which are so unlike anything I've ever seen before. Like this, the statue to the unknown guerilla, with an axe in one hand, AK-47 in the other pointing up to the sky. Made me feel like I wasn't in Kansas anymore...


San Juan del Sur, our little beach town, was pretty used to seeing people from the states who come for the surfing. This place is not nearly as well known as Costa Rica (probably due to the aforementioned U.S. invasion to control the Civil War) but was so friendly and accomodating to us. We stayed at a hostel full of nothing but surfers for $5 a night and were 2 blocks away from the beach. Other than making it to our destination, we had little other plans for the weekend except finishing our books and becoming bronzed goddesses. I feel like I was more successful at one then the other, but then again who really wants to read when on a tropical beach anyway? Just kidding. I did finish my book and even got a few tan lines, and by tan lines I mean freckles on my shoulders and chest which give the appearance of color.

All in all, I had a wonderful time. Make sure to check out my pictures, which you can enlarge by clicking on them. I also have another video clip from the beach, but I apologize for the sound quality...the wind kinda does a number on that. To see this video, go to the post entitled "Now You Can See My Homemade Videos" under the September archives. Keep me in your prayers...I can surely use them. Pray that I can find a place volunteer at during the summer that isn't too far from my apartment, pray for friends, safety, continued Spanish learning, and that I can become more and more connected with people here. Until next time, leave me some comments. I check them all the time and they make my day :)

11/12/2006

Tales of the Weekend When I Accidentally Went to Guatemala

Being that I am now an official adult with a career that has such things as "paid days off," Jen and I once again decided to be adventurous and took a day off to have a long weekend of traveling...Long being the operative word in use. But then again, it should be a little long when you accidentally go to a country you hadn't necessarily planned on. Saying that, I will now prolong the suspense by going into the whole back-story of how we got to this point. I know you are all waiting eagerly in anticipation...

Since last summer when I first came to Honduras, I have wanted to go to Copan, which is known for having the best preserved Mayan ruins in the world. For some, just a pile of rocks can be boring, but I am completely intrigued by things like this. I loved the Colosseum in Rome, Stonehenge in England, and now these Mayan ruins. The amount of work that these ancient civilizations put into their buildings, chiseling one rock at a time into a block, carrying the blocks, and building these huge, intricate structures that are still here thousands of years later amazes me. Being only a few hours away, I have been waiting for the perfect weekend to go. Not to mention that I found a $4 a night hostel that looked like so much fun just 2 km away from the ruins...it was calling my name.

In addition to being my city tour guide and Spanish tutor, our friend Jorge can add "personal travel agent" to his list of jobs since he found Jen and I these really cheap bus tickets to Copan from Tegucigalpa. ***On a sidetrack*** Ever notice how easily you can say things like "I can sleep on the plane,"(or in this case the bus) when after the last time you said that you swore to yourself that you would never be so stupid again? With that said, we agreed to take the bus leaving at 11:00p.m. from Comayaguela, which is the city that has molded itself with Tegucigalpa in the urban sprawl. Comayaguela is like the Harlem of Tegucigalpa---lots of life, great local restaurants and nightspots and culture, but also notoriously known for being not so great in certain parts. But don't worry folks...we are always taken care of and were made sure that we got on the bus safely.

The bus stop in Comayaguela was "rustic" to say the least. I put this word in quotations because so many times I feel like this word is used more as a euphemism than an actual adjective by people who can't quite say "junky" or "run-down". Anyways, this bus station was "rustic," and over the entrance it had a hand-written sign that said "May God be with you on your journey"-- a nice sentiment, however it evokes different feelings when you're at a bus-stop with random stray dogs, unfinished walls, and piles of rubble everywhere. We board the bus at 11, here a small sermon by the driver, and are off, planning to arrive at our destination early in the morning.

Since we are teachers who wake up with the sun every morning, we also go to bed early, so just to stay up past 11:00 for our bus was late. Needless to say, we slept on the bus. Hard. I know earlier that I wrote that thing about how thinking you can sleep on a plane or a bus is stupid, and even though we did sleep on this bus, this presented problems. I woke up a couple of times through the night to change positions, and then I woke up as we got to our final stop, and everyone got off the bus. Now, keep in mind that I had traveled through the night and had just woken up as I explain these next few sentences. When Jen and I got off the bus, we noticed lots of tacky "Honduras" things, and guys everywhere asking to change our money. I knew that Copan would be touristy, so I thought all this was normal. After being approached by several guys to change our money or ride a taxi, Jen and I just decided to walk with confidence down the street, don't look like clueless tourists, and get to our Hostel, which said it was within walking distance of the bus stop. All of a sudden, a guy's voice asked for our passports, and I was really confused. Why would someone ask for our passports in Copan? I turned around and saw an immigration official, and it was at that point when I started to put the pieces together (remember, I was on little sleep and had just woken up)---the money changer guys, the tacky Honduras stuff--and then I began to see taxis and busitos with Guatemala-Honduras signs on the side. Jen and I had confidently and ignorantly walked past the Honduran border into Guatemala. In my defense, there was no "Welcome to Guatemala" signs or even a gate of any sorts dividing the two countries. There was just 1 immigration official, who was very nice and didn't seem upset that two gringas just tried to rush his country. My favorite part about the whole situation was a little old man in a cowboy hat sweeping the garbage from the Guatemala side of the border to the Honduras side.

Then the question was raised: Where were we exactly and how far was Copan? The answer was Agua Caliente, and 3 hours.

We had slept through our bus stop, which was unannounced on an overnight bus where its dark outside and you can't see landmarks or signs of any sort...not like there are really any of those to begin with. We had a good laugh, got on another bus, slept some more, and told everyone we could on the bus where we were going so that we had about 5 people waking us up to let us know we were getting close to our stop. Good job guys.

The town of Copan Ruinas is totally cute, and bizarrily gringo-fied...almost to the point where you didn't know how to greet anyone---Do I speak in Spanish? English? German? Dutch? I think I can safely say that I saw more foreigners here in Copan than I have collectively in my time in Honduras.

Like the name implies, the town is famous for its Mayan ruins, which are the best preserved in the world. There were wild parrots everywhere, absolutely colossal trees that made it possible for the sun to only penetrate through the foliage in individual rays, and then through the brush there appears this gigantic Mayan palace and altar. We didn't pay for a tour guide, but we would hear bits and pieces as we walked around and we were very impressed by the facility. Carrying around my 30 lb. backpack, I climbed up to the top of the ruins and got an incredible view of the countryside and into Guatemala (I will be back Guatemala....and next time it will be on purpose!) The weather was also pretty nice, but that is also because we entered into the park at about 8 a.m....as we left it started getting hotter and the mosquitoes were out in full force near the end of our tour, so much so that we had to keep moving at all times to help prevent landage. We almost looked like Pigpen on Charlie Brown with this dark cloud around our bodies, except that it was mosquitoes and not dust. We've had those moments too though... (See: Weekend in Cedros, picture where I'm covered in mud).

Overall, I give the trip a thumbs up on the fun scale. In the post above you will find pictures of the town of Copan Ruinas, and the next post below you can see the actual ruins.

These are pictures from the amazing $4 a night hostel I stayed at in Copan Ruinas. If anyone's ever in the area, I'd completely recommend it.

And last but not least, our trusty back-packs. These are what make us truly travelers and not tourists, and Jen and I could probably impress just about anyone with the amount of stuff we are able to cram in here and how long we are able to carry these things for.

Weekend in Cedros

So after asking us for the past two months, we finally took up Jorge on his offer to take us to his village out in the country for a weekend on the farm. Early Saturday morning we left El Hatillo, and after a ride on the school bus, a collectivo taxi, two chicken busses, and a 2 km hike we made it to Cedros...and all this before 9:00am. Cedros, population 1,500 (although I have no idea where all these people live since the town literally had three streets) is one of the oldest villages in the country, and is known for being the city in which the Honduran Constitution was written. It is still very traditional, with the main form of transportation being horses, and I'm pretty sure it was known amongst the people that there were visitors in the city...it seems like news would travel rather quickly in this town. What I had the hardest time getting over though was just how quiet it was there. For lunch Jen, Naomi, Jorge, and I sat at the only restaurant in town (which was pretty much in this family's living room) eating fresh enchilladas and looking through the front door, and in the hour and a half that we were there I don't think we saw a car drive by or heard anything louder than a casual conversation from someone walking by. Quite a change from my city of 3 million people, where it seems like I am always surrounded by noise, people, traffic, stray dogs, busses, beggars, music, and just the sounds of life in a big city. Although this weekend was a wonderful relaxing retreat, I think I would go crazy there from lack of entertainment, even if only in the form of visual stimuli.

After walking around the village for a little while, taking our time strolling the streets and eating ice cream, we made our way out to the Raudales family farm, which was 9 km outside of the village. We walked half the way and managed to catch a bus for the other part, and walked down the long, muddy trail that led to the farm. Right now we are in the heart of rainy season in Honduras, so everything is muddy, especially low-lying areas like this trail. But we made it to the farmhouse, slept in the hammocks on the porch for a little while, ate fresh guavas off the tree, and started back on the walk to Cedros when I slipped and fell in a huge mud puddle in the only clothes I brought for the weekend. I wasn't quite awake when we started walking, but I was definitely awake after becoming covered from the knee down in mud!


Looking all a mess, we hitched a ride in the back of a pick-up truck with a bunch of police who let us touch their AK-47's, ate at the restaurant, and walked around the town at night while music was played in the town-center for all the residents to enjoy. Later on, we sat out on the steps of the pulperia (which is like a local mini-convenience center of sorts) with our drinks and talking to all the locals and old friends of Jorge's until the owner of the pulperia threatened to call the cops on us (who were literally across the street...a whole 15 feet away) for breaking the town's curfew, which I think was 9:00p.m. on Saturday. Truly, this place is like a Mayberry of Honduras.

Up until this point, I have felt like my parents would hate to come and visit me in Honduras, but I know that they would have loved this little town. I'm planning on going back in January for the big town fair, which is when Jorge says that the town really comes alive. But until then, here
are some pictures. Enjoy!






These views come from the belltower in the cathedral in the center of town.




















Looking glorious, and as always, a shining example of gracefulness and beauty.















Couldn't this be the cover shot for the World Vision or Amnesty International Catalogue? This little girl and her family lived on the farm in a little tiny house and were responsible for keeping it up since none of Jorge's family live there permanently anymore---something along the lines of feudalism except with more humanity. I thought she was precious though and wanted to share :)