Water, traveling, etc

Well, it is Saturday night so I thought I would get a little wild and crazy and write a blog entry. It is 7:00 right now and I am already halfway in my pjs but don’t think I am too lame because I am listening to the new Britney Spears song in honor of the weekend (shockingly Britney just doesn’t seem that talented sans drink in hand). Things have been up and down, sometimes I feel like I am 15 again with the way my mood changes every 7 seconds. I have warm and fuzzy happy moments and “what the hell am I doing here” moments. I haven’t had any moments yet when I have my suitcase packed and am headed for the nearest airport but I have definitely considered walking home just for something to do…Anyway, that’s my mental status in case you were wondering. Now more random stories:

Cold blooded killer

After hearing numerous accounts I have come to the conclusion that here in Honduras the number one killer/maimer/etc is cold water. I find this ironic given that hot showers are few and far between yet the population seems to be more or less flourishing. Therefore I will report the frightening cold water attacks I have heard about and let you decide for yourself whether or not you should fear the knob with the letter c on it.

• In Talanga, one of my friends reported that his host brother and mother chided him when he took a shower right after playing soccer. They informed him that an uncle had worked out and then taken a cold shower and his hand got stuck “asi” (frozen like a claw). Then his arthritis got worse and he died. This story was confirmed when Christine and I were talking to the host brother about how we ran before class. He asked us if we showered and we said yes of course. He then retold the hand-claw-death story. We did our best to hold in our laughter. Then he told us that if we had to shower, we absolutely should NOT use soap because after you work out your pores are open and the soap will clog up your pores, and if the cold water doesn’t kill you that certainly will. I have continued to do the cold shower/soap combo of death after working out and have thus far survived…I’ll keep you updated.

• In Zarabanda my family was eating soup. To be honest, I was not a really big fan of the soup because it was really salty. Therefore I was glad that I had a giant glass of juice to drink. I took a couple bites of soup and then went to take a sip of juice when my 6 year old host sister screamed “Nooooooooooooo” and lunged towards me slow-mo style. Never eat hot soup and then drink something cold. You will get sick and die.
• Here in Colo I was talking to the empleada (the woman who cooks and does laundry for my host mom) while she was ironing. We were talking about an upcoming wedding when suddenly she stopped ironing and looked at me very seriously and asked “Do you ever wash your hands after ironing?” I was slightly puzzled by this question and just sort of stammered, not really knowing how to reply (no, not intentionally?? Maybe I have?). She shook her head and said “Never, NEVER, wash your hands after ironing, because your hands are hot and water is cold. I did once and look!” and then showed me a giant cyst-ish bump on the back of her hand. The only thing that kept me from laughing was concern over the true nature of the bump.
  

Flooding

The tank of the toilet attached to my room leaks all the time. It is pretty much my fault because there is a switch I can flip which will ensure the toilet does not leak but I always forget to flip it, and 85% of the time it doesn’t leak if I don’t, it is the other 15% of the time that gets me. Therefore it is not uncommon for me to have to mop up the bathroom floor with my sweatpants (yes the same ones I used as a towel). It’s normally not a big deal but the other day I came home and there was significantly more water than normal so the sweatpants just were not going to cut it. I didn’t want to go get the mop because every time I don’t that my host dad tries to “fix” it, which just results in more water (and the true solution is just for me to stop being forgetful and flip the switch), so I had to get creative. The water was concentrated right by my shower (because the floor slants) and I would say there was about a 1 foot circle of water about a centimeter deep. I concluded that all I needed to do was somehow splash/scoop the water over the shower partition. I searched my room for something thin enough to bail out a centimeter and settled on the plastic cover of a training manual (sorry Ronaldo). I then proceeded to sit on my bathroom floor (the dry part) and scoop/splash water into my shower. I did this for a good 10 minutes. The conclusion? It worked, I am the MacGyver of flooding, I have way too much time on my hands, and I share things that are probably best kept to myself.

Suprise!

On Monday I talked to the director of the colegio about when I would start giving English classes to the sixth graders. He said that he was going to talk to their teacher and then he would let me know but he thought probably the beginning of next week. I was fine with that and headed home for lunch. I went back to the colegio after lunch, to do some more sitting/tetris playing on my phone. At around 2:30 two girls walked into my office and informed me they were there for my English class which started at 3:00. Oh? I was unaware. Luckily, while I was sitting in the office that morning I planned an English lesson so I decided to just roll with it and give the class. We sat around and waited for more kids to show up. I was getting my papers in order when I realized that they were taking pictures of me on their cell phone. Sort of awkward. Then they started drawing in a notebook and shyly brought it up to show me. It said “Sara es mi mejor amiga” and had little hearts around it. I won’t lie; it was a warm and fuzzy moment. At around 3:15 it became apparent that they were the only two students coming so we had a pretty relaxed class. We agreed that they would come back the next day and try to get more of their classmates to come with them. The next day only one of the girls came. This made my lesson, which involved lots of games and partner activities, kind of worthless but I did my best. The next day no one came. Class fail. I am trying again this week.

Not long enough to name:

• A teacher at the colegio came to visit me last weekend because she wanted to introduce me to her daughters. We chatted for a while and then she gave me three apples as a present. It was another warm and fuzzy moment.

• My host mom brought me up a drink the other day because it was cold outside. It was hot milk, sugar, and chunks of squash. I did not like it. The drink was warm and fuzzy but the moment was not.

Learning

I finally got around to getting my Spanish tutor. I really like her (I plan on tricking her into being my friend). However, I have noticed that a lot of people don’t really understand that some things cross the language barrier. For example, she explained both commas and paragraphs to me. Then she went on to explain nouns, adjectives, and verbs. I am slowly trying to make her realize that although I talk like a 2 year old, I do know things. On a similar note, today I was looking through the town phone book and my host mom said “Those on the left are called numbers, do you know how to read numbers?” yes. This was followed by “Is your tutor teaching you the alphabet?” no, got it covered. I was really confused by the abc question considering she has seen me reading Cien Horas con Fidel (100 Hours with Fidel), an 800 page tome donated to me by the director of the colegio. It is not my first choice of reading material but I need to practice so I am slowly moving through it, a process which would be incredibly difficult without a basic knowledge of alphabetic principles. I miss occasionally being mistaken for intelligent.. or at least not being mistaken for a 2 year old.

Traveling

Friday I went into the “big city” with my host family. Going to the “city” involves a 4 hour ride (one way) over a road made largely of boulders, slightly smaller boulders, rocks that were once boulders, and mud (to give you an better idea of the road, it is only 45 miles from here to La Esperanza, so it takes 4 hours to go 45 miles…Jess would die of impatience). We got up at 4:30 in order to make it there and back at a decent hour. I spent the ride there trying to press myself up against the door because the guy (friend of my host dad) sitting next to me was falling asleep on me (still not good with the whole personal space/other people touching me thing). When we finally got there we had breakfast, which was relatively uneventful if you overlooked my 6 year old host brother bathing himself in mantequilla (Hondurans eat mantequilla with everything, it’s sorta a sour cream mayonnaise combo) and refried beans, which I did easily as he does it at every meal. Then we went to banks, markets, etc. We went to a “fast” food restaurant for lunch. My host dad spilled his orange soda all over his fried chicken and fries and then casually shrugged it off and continued eating (I think I would have thrown in the towel). We ran a few more errands, collecting people that needed a ride to Colo along the way. Then my host dad bought a motorcycle (don’t worry peace corps, I will never ever ride said motorcycle). He loaded it into the back of the pickup and we prepared to leave. At this point Colo-bound party included my host mom and dad, a host brother, me, one of my counterparts, 7 other people, a motorcycle, and various sacks of fruits, vegetables, etc. We wedged 6 people into the actual car part and then 6 sat in the bed of the pickup with the motorcycle. Sacks of various goods were shoved in any other available space. My host brother did his part in conserving space by wearing the new (giant) motorcycle helmet all the way home (gotta love 6 year olds). Due to the 4:30 wake up and the fact that I was sitting in the middle, I was very grouchy by the time I got home and am convinced that had my host brother not provided the comic relief by looking like a bobble head doll I would have blown.

• Side note: the full grown motorcycle is for my 12 year old host brother, who still looks like he is about 9. Scary. Even scarier: today he was driving the pickup truck in (fast) circles around the soccer field while his 4 year old sister was sitting on a water tank in the back, holding on to the roof and the 6 year old was hanging on the outside of the truck bed. I almost had a heart attack.

Sickness, teeth, and babychowers

Last week something I ate/drank/touched/breathed made me sick so I spent all of Wednesday in bed. It was actually kind of a nice break (I do not recommend the movie Love in the Time of Cholera, it is uncomfortable at best). My stomach was all messed up and I all wanted were some saltines and Gatorade but naturally my host mom wanted to stuff me full of foods that were “suavecito.” The foods I was offered included mashed potatoes, pupusas, and (the worst) atole. For those of you that don’t know, pupusas are tortillas stuffed with cheese and atole is…well I don’t even exactly know what atole is but it is a hot corn starchy-liquidy concoction that has some cinnamon in it and for some reason the particular type my host mom gave me was bright pink. The other frequently offered beverage was coffee (don’t even get me started on the coffee…I’ve heard people proudly say they put in two scoops of coffee and three of sugar, I miss black coffee). Although I appreciated the care and concern, the food did very little to settle my stomach.
Despite the fact that I was still feeling a bit green, Thursday I decided I couldn’t take another day in bed so I pumped myself full of meds and set off to work. I needed to get a signature from the girl I work with at EDUCATODOS so I met up with her and her friend. Her friend (Oneydah) works for the government (sort of?) and is in charge of projects promoting healthy schools. She is not officially one of my counterparts but I would really like to work with her since I am interested in health issues. So, naturally, when she asked me if I would give some charlas within the next couple weeks I agreed. She asked if I had any sort of supplies/props/manuals and I assured her that I did back at my house. Then she asked if I wanted to come to a couple schools with her that day. My stomach was still doing somersaults but I really want to work with her (and am a sucker) so I said yes. We hoped in the back of a pickup truck and started off. In retrospect, getting into the back of a pickup truck to drive 30 minutes down a road made mostly of boulders and mud when I already felt sick was a bad life choice. I spent the journey clinging for dear life on the outside and inwardly willing my stomach contents to stay put (I’ve already thrown up on a church; I didn’t want to move on to vehicles/people). We arrived at the first school and gave out the anti-parasite pills we were there to deliver. Then we started walking to the next school. Oneydah told me it was kind of far away and then asked what my charla was going to be about…Excuse me? What charla?... Apparently when she asked me if I could give some charlas in the next couple weeks she also meant that very day. I awkwardly stood in the road and stammered that I didn’t have any props, nor did I know a whole lot of Spanish. She looked so disappointed that I suddenly found myself agreeing to wing it. We continued walking, my stomach now doing somersaults at an alarming rate. Then a pickup truck turned the corner towards us. She stopped walking, gave me an apologetic smirk and said “I think we should just take this ride, because it is a three hour walk home, do you mind giving the charla later?” Saved by the pickup.
The next day I went with Oneydah to another school, this time I thought I was prepared to give my charla on dental health. Naturally, the school turned out to be significantly larger than I had expected so I didn’t have enough handouts, but I made due. I talked (mimed and stuttered would probably be a more apt description) to grades 1-6. Basically all I told them was how to brush their teeth, how often to do it, what food to eat, and that it was a good idea to see a dentist every now and then if you can…not the most inspired presentation but I did the best I could with my limited language skills. Halfway through my 3rd grade presentation Oneydah informed me that she was leaving…thanks, see you later. I finally finished up and began the hour long walk home. (Don’t worry parental figures, although I walk alone sometimes, every now and then an old woman or kid pops out of nowhere, and I am certain they are all prepared to administer a hefty dose of atole and/or coffee should some ill befall me).
When I got home, I was pretty exhausted but I ate a quick lunch and then dragged myself to the colegio so I could sit around and pretend to be working in the hopes that someone would have something for me to do. That night, I had the pleasure of attending my first Honduran baby shower (or, as they call it, a babychower). It was a pretty standard baby shower, with a couple of surprises thrown in. We played a lot of games that I assume are pretty typical at baby showers, although I don’t frequent them so I cannot say for sure. During one game people had to run around the room getting the signatures of people with certain characteristics (i.e.: person wearing a red shirt). People immediately sprinted towards me and thrust their papers in my face to sign. I didn’t have a sheet but I assumed it was something like “the gringa-est person in the room.” Then I looked at the sheet and to my surprise, it was “the tallest person in the room.” What! Never in my whole life have I ever been the tallest anything! I hadn’t really noticed my altitude until that moment. I can’t imagine what they would do if they met Jess, KT, Jenna, or Carol. In between the different games we ate food. The first course was half a mystery chicken sandwich, a dollop of nacho cheese and tortilla chips, a cookie, coke, and one marshmallow. This was soon followed by a tamale and coffee. Which was followed by cake and more coffee. Keep in mind that I was still sick at this point and I personally give myself a lot of credit for holding it all down. My favorite moment of the evening was the toast. Everyone had a little glass full of none other than Boone’s Farm, strawberry flavor. When I saw the Boone’s Farm label I literally started laughing out loud, talk about memory lane (and of course this particular lane started December 3, 2006). I hope to attend more babychowers in the future.

Dr. Sarita, psychologist

I have been in Colo for I think 11 days now and am slowly getting accustomed to life as a PCV. To be completely honest, I have no clue what I am doing and am pretty much making it up as I go along. I have been spending a lot of time awkwardly smiling and forcing myself into conversations. Right now it is hard because the school year is about to end so no one is really enthusiastic about starting anything new. Which leaves me with a bit of spare time on my hands but I have been keeping myself busy more or less. So what have I been up to?

First week:
The first day I was here I went to the colegio and met the director, all of the afternoon teachers, and was introduced to all of the afternoon classes. My introduction to the first class, I believe, is the keystone to a rather awkward definition of who I am. The director (who is incredibly nice and helpful) wanted to give me a good introduction so he proceeded to talk me up for about 5 minutes, using my resume as his inspiration. He started out by introducing me as Sarita (basically the Johnny version of Sarah) so now I am known far and wide as Sarita, which is fine with me but occasionally makes me feel even more like 5 year old. Then he proceeds to tell everyone that I am a psychologist (because my undergrad was psychology) which makes me slightly nervous as I am nowhere near qualified to give psychological advice (let alone in Spanish…). Then came the real curve ball, he explained that I have a degree in education and specialize in treating kids with dyslexia, which means “kids that have trouble forming words and talking.” Now, I personally have never worked with any dyslexic children but am certain that is not what dyslexia is (unless it is different in spanish). It also seems ironic that the girl who can barely say hola convincingly is allegedly here to help kids with speech impediments (I myself AM a walking speech impediment). His secretary was listening to this introduction and she made a bunch of subsequent introductions so now I am officially a psychologist specializing in dyslexia. Oh well.
The next day was Saturday and my counterpart (the one I was staying with) took me to a place called “La Pista” which is a big open field on the top of a hill that overlooks the town. It was a really great view. She explained that the area had been cleared during the war in El Salvador and it used to be a landing strip for planes bringing in aid because there was a huge refugee camp near town. Now the town uses it as a place for picnics etc. On Sunday I went to the market and visited some neighbors.
On Monday I went back to the colegio and met the morning classes. I also went to the gardin de niños (I love that name, garden of kids…it is the Honduran equivalent of preschool) and the elementary school. Then I finally met my host family and got to move into my new place. My room is nice, it is an apartment with its own bathroom. My favorite feature is my bedspread. It has a giant picture of a leopard on it and is velvety, I’ll have to post a picture of it eventually. Tuesday I observed an English class at the colegio (first words I understood in Colomoncagua), went to the Centro de Salud (health center) and tried to visit the mayor but he wasn’t around. Then I went to the local Coop to try to cash a check so that I didn’t have to take the 4 hour bus ride to La Esperanza to get some money. I wasn’t sure if I had to make the check out to myself or the Coop so I left it blank but filled in the amount. I walk in, thinking it would be a relatively simple process, but I was wrong. It was kind of stupid of me to assume I could just waltz in, a random strange gringa, and cash a check for a relatively large amount of money. They looked at me like I was crazy. Then when they realized I had not filled in anything on the name line they asked me if I had ever written a check before. I assured them I had, and I told them where I was living in case there was anything wrong with the check. They also examined my signature and asked if that was really how I signed my name. In Honduras they love their fancy signatures and my scribble is apparently subpar. I just pray that nothing goes wrong with the check because I can only imagine the chisme (gossip).
Wednesday I met up with the coordinator for EDUCATODOS. She basically told me that there was nothing I could do until the next school year but (after I awkwardly forced her) let me tag along with her when she went to visit a school in an aldea. She warned me that we would have to walk but I thought nothing of it, I welcomed a good walk. Little did I know we would be knee deep in mud, fording creeks, dodging barbed wire, and balancing precariously on logs. I am 100% certain I could not find my way back to that school if you paid me. But, all in all it was a good experience and I am looking forward to getting to know her next year because she seems cool. Thursday I went to a kinder outside of town with the assistant district director. She wants to implement a Montessori system in a bunch of kinders in the aldeas and the school we visited already has started using Montessori methods so she wanted me to see how it worked. The ride there was jarring to say the least, the roads were awful. I couldn’t decide which would be a better death, wearing my seatbelt and being slowly strangled by it as it tightened over every bump OR being thrown out my open window. Naturally, to keep my mother from flying down to smack me, I chose to wear the seatbelt. The kinder was interesting, I am not sure how feasible it is to do a Montessori program in every kinder but I am excited to work on it. When I got home I headed over to the colegio and sat in on some more classes. I almost fell asleep in the last one, it was an epic battle to stay awake but I knew I could not afford to make that bad of an impression hopefully I pulled it off. Friday I switched it up and went to the elementary school and sat in classes there. I think I am going to do that a couple more times because I actually learned stuff, particularly in the Spanish class. This weekend I did a lot of sitting around. Saturday night was the Honduras vs US soccer game. I went to Edna’s house(counterpart I stayed with) to watch the game and they gave me a Honduras jersey. It was way to small but I squeezed myself in it and watched the US beat Honduras. I won’t lie, when the US won I felt very awkward. Edna and her family decided it would be safer/wiser if they walked me home so I was escorted home by 5 people. A couple people bitterly muttered things like “you won” as I walked by but all in all it was very calm. Sunday I went to the market again and then sat around.
I promise that I do not plan on giving a day by day account for the next two years, but since it was the first week I figured I should be thorough.

Random Tidbits:

• While I was still staying at Edna’s house I refused to open up my suitcase and dig around because I didn’t want to have to pack yet again. So I reverted to sticking my hand in my bag and wearing whatever I could grab. Unfortunately, I never could seem to grab my towel (and I actually opened the suitcase to look for it but couldn’t find it) so I decided the logical thing to do was use a pair of sweatpants as a towel. Yup, that’s right, I spent my first week in Colo drying myself off with a pair of sweatpants. That might be one of those things I should keep to myself but I thought I would share.
• I spend a lot of time sitting around.
• Roosters suck. Seriously, whoever said that they only make their stupid fog horn noises one time in the morning is a dirty liar.

I'm a big kid now!

Well. I am finally all grown up and an official volunteer! I am all settled into my new house in Colomoncagua. For these first couple months I will be living with a host family. They are very nice, with three kids (4,5,12). I have my own little apartment separate from the house, it is tiny but it is nice to feel somewhat independent again! As usual, I waited too long to write so now I have a million updates so here we go:

Counterparts
I realize I told you all where I was going but not what I am going to do. So now I will. The Peace Corps arranges for us all to have different counterparts within our community. Counterparts act as our liaisons to the different organizations we work with. My official counterparts are:
The director at the local colegio (highschool)

• In the colegio I will be being doing a bunch of random things like giving charlas and teaching English classes and whatever else they want me to do. I have my very own desk in the front office (however as of right now I don’t have anything to actually put in my desk…

The director of EDUCATODOS

• EDUCATODOS is a program designed to bring education to those that might not otherwise have access to it for whatever reason. I am not sure exactly how it works or what I will be doing but I meet with the director for the first time tomorrow so we shall see. The previous volunteers did a lot of work with them so hopefully I will be able to help out as well.

The District Director of Education

• This counterpart is my link to all the elementary schools in the aldeas surrounding the main “city” of Colomoncagua. I am not sure what I will be doing with them yet but it could include things like the Colgate tooth brushing program, environmental ed, and creative thinking classes.

The director of the local elementary school

• Again, I am not sure exactly what I will be doing but I am sure it will be fun. I went into all the classes on Monday and introduced myself and now whenever I am out and about I have a bunch of kids running up to me yelling “Sarita! Sarita!” I like them because they don’t care I can’t speak Spanish :)

Swear-in! H-15 all dressed up

I finally got sworn in as a volunteer last Wednesday (I think it was Wednesday…) We started out the day by meeting our counterparts. The counterpart that came to get me is not actually an “official” counterpart but she works at the local colegio. We all awkwardly stood around and made small talk with our counterparts for about an hour and then we listened to some speeches about our group and what makes a good counterpart/volunteer blah blah blah. Then we had lunch and it was time to go to the Embassy to swear-in. I was pretty amazed that we actually got to go to the embassy considering it was inches away from where Mel is currently shacking up.

Hi Mel!

The counterparts all rode in one bus and the volunteers in another and we waited outside the embassy for about a million hours while they metal-detected and registered everyone (there were 100+ people with us). Then we went in and listened to some more speeches. At this point I felt really bad for all the counterparts because it was boring for the volunteers (well, me at least) and I can only imagine how restless they must have been. Anyway, then we all got to introduce ourselves in front of everyone. Naturally, I managed to mess it up. I got my name right, but then I said I was going to live in Comayagua, Intibuca. For those of you that are not Honduran department buffs, it was like saying that I was going to live in Virginia, Pennsylvania. Well played Sarah, well played. The best part of this is that I didn’t even realize I did that until about 4 hours later when Christine gently pointed it out (made fun of me). My counterpart also found it funny and we have had several good laughs about it since then. After the swearing in all of the volunteers went to the “downtown” area near where we lived to get drinks and food and said goodbye. It was a good night.

The H-15 YD Volunteers
Those are our sweet t-shirts, they have a picture of Erick (guy next to me) on them because he is basically walking happiness
Another YD shot
Please look at the back row, spitting image of Dylan

Traveling
After a night of “partying” (which ended when the bus dropped me off at home around 9:30), I had to get up at 4 am so that I could catch the bus to the cab station so a cab could take me to a bus station (yea.). The bus that picked me up near my house was specifically for the pcvs so there was a giant stack of luggage taking up about half of it (my refrigerator-sized suitcase was included in the stack). The bus dropped us off at the cab area where we were supposed to meet up with our counterparts. Naturally, because I can never seem to do things the normal way, my counterpart didn’t show up. Everyone else went on their way and I was left standing there with Erick (our logistics guy, probably the best person ever) and my refrigerator. We promptly drove to the PC office and frantically tried to track her down. While we were doing this the bus I was supposed to take with my counterpart and a couple of other volunteers, left. No one could find my counterpart so we decided that I would get on the next bus to La Esperanza and hope that she showed up there. So, I loaded myself and my refrigerator bag (and my other bags) onto the bus and set off. During the 4 hour trip the PC located my counterpart and she got on the bus that left after mine. I arrived in La Esperanza and spent an exhilarating 2 hours sitting in the hot sun, on the curb, next to my refrigerator bag, waiting. Shockingly enough, gringas with bags bigger than they are don’t frequent the La Esperanza bus stop, so I was quite the spectacle. What was worse was that there was shade just 5 steps up and a few feet away but the thought of wrestling my bags up the 5 steps was just too much for me (that and the thought of the whole bus stop full of people watching me wrestle the bag). Eventually my counterpart showed up and we got on the next bus for Colomoncagua. As a consequence of my overpacking, I got to meet the people of my new town looking like a lobster. Next time I decide to move all of my possessions to a remote town in the middle of a Central American country I am wearing sunscreen.
The road from La Esperanza to Colo is pretty much the stereotypical dirt/rock road sliding off the side of a mountain. It is pretty incredible. The views are great, as long as you don’t think about how you are 3 inches away from plummeting over the side of a cliff. Anyway, that ride took about 4 hours as well, and during it my counterpart fell asleep on my shoulder. Good bonding moment? Then we finally arrived in Colomoncagua and my counterpart informed me my host family was out of town.
Oh? Well then… where do I go? She graciously allowed me to stay at her house and so I spent my first 5 days with her and her family. They are an incredibly nice group of people and I am very grateful for everything they did for me. They took me in and fed me and flat out refused to accept any sort of payment. Now, even though I have moved in with my real host family, they all look out for me and have me over for lunch, coffee, etc. At first I was a little annoyed that I couldn’t move right into my host family’s house because I was sick to death of living out of a suitcase, now I am really glad I had the opportunity to get to know them better because it is like I have two families here now.