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 :)