Every time I sit down to write a blog entry I hate myself for a couple minutes because I put it off so long and then can’t remember what I wanted to write about. Then I sit for a couple more minutes and try to figure out how I want to organize my inevitable word vomit. Then I get over it and just make bullet marks (fyi).
- I am officially old and wrinkly. I hesitate to type it, but it is time to face the facts. I am now 24 years old. I am almost one fourth of a century old. Sick. Obviously I do not handle birthdays well. They always make me feel as though I haven’t accomplished anything. I guess given that I recently hauled off and moved to a different country should make me feel slightly more accomplished but alas, I still don’t know what I am doing with my life so I don’t. And I think I am getting crow’s feet.
- My birthday here was pretty interesting. Certainly more interesting than last year’s at least (which involved me sitting alone in my room, listening to Simon and Garfunkel, and working on my thesis, wooooo). One of my counterparts made it his personal mission to inform everyone in town it was my birthday so I had quite a few random people tell me felicidades. I had classes with the elementary schoolers in the morning and a couple of the other teachers had all the kids sing happy birthday to me. Having about 60 Honduran kids singing to you and then sprinting at you in an effort to be the first to get in a hug is definitely a good way to start out a birthday. I had a couple more classes and all the kids were really sweet and brought me candy and cards. Two girls brought me presents to my house (a magazine holder and a box shaped like a Christmas tree). I am really happy that my town is so open and warm-hearted. I was dreading the first Thanksgiving-birthday combo away from home but it has turned out to be a little less painful than I expected because everyone here watches out for me. Oh, also forgot to mention that it is Honduran tradition to crack and egg on the birthday girl’s head. One of my kids graciously brought a sack of eggs to class with her. She carefully held the sack with a huge evil grin on her face the whole class. Although I am all for integrating into the community, I felt as though I ate enough eggs in my effort to fit in, I did not need to wear them. Therefore as soon as I ended class I (maturely, as I am now an old lady) sprinted out of the room screaming “Fíjese que……I’m North American!” Dodged that slimy cultural bullet.
- To further celebrate my mother’s hours of labor I visited a couple of volunteers that live about an hour away. The ride there was a typical Honduran adventure. I was originally going to catch a ride with my host dad but he was leaving at 5:30 in the morning and something told me that Blair didn’t want me to show up at her doorstep at 6:30 in the morning (birthday or no birthday). So instead I opted to take the 10:30 bus. I tracked the bus down around 10:15 (there aren’t actually official stops, more unofficial ones) and made sure to ask the bus helper kid if the bus was actually going to my destination. He assured me it was. So we are riding along and about 30 minutes into the ride we come to a fork in the road. The bus driver then announces that he doesn’t feel like driving all the way to where I was going so I should get off and wait for a jalon (hitchhike). Gee, thanks. So I stumbled off the bus and had an “oh shit moment” when I stopped to consider the fact that I didn’t ACTUALLY know what the town looked like, nor did I know where I was in relation to it. Luckily there were a couple other people waiting in front of a little store and I asked them where they were going and a couple of them were headed to the same place as me. I then asked how long they had been waiting, they replied “oh about 3 hours.” Lovely. I sat around for about 45 minutes talking to a guy and his son and he said that they might start walking soon. I asked how long it would take and he said about an hour. I mentally began preparing myself for the walk. Just then a pickup came and we all hopped in. No walking for me! Just a really bruised ass from bouncing up and down in the truck (I originally was standing, but just FYI, don’t try to stand up in the back of a pickup when you are wearing a dress, it tends not to go well…)
- So in addition to my hours of English classes I also have been teaching computer classes to 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. I assure you this is as painful as it sounds. We have not yet progressed past the paint application. I spend most of the class reminding the kids that they have to press the mouse and move their hand at the same time. The whole process would be a lot easier if we weren’t all working with what appear to be the first mice ever manufactured. All of the hard drives are connected to surge protectors and one little bugger turns off the surge protector nearest him (and thus all the computers around him) every time he makes a mistake (which is frequently). I have had words with him but I can’t get too mad because every time I try to yell he gives me a little smile and shows me his 3 existing teeth and I just can’t get mad. Despite the cuteness of the kids I will be very glad when the classes end (in exactly 5 days, woo). I am sure in my next post I will be complaining about how bored I am without classes to teach but, deal with it.
- In my spare time, besides reading, I have been perfecting my skills on my ipod games. I am proud to say that I can now complete an easy Sudoku puzzle in 3 minutes and 9 seconds. In the game Who has the Biggest Brain? (a series of logic puzzles) I have progressed from having a scientist brain to having a cyborg brain. My score on my boggle-ish game has improved dramatically from an average of about 25 points to 75 points. I actually went through a period of time when I was inadvertently playing boggle in my mind as I was trying to go to sleep. Had to lay off that game for a while… I am sure you are all very proud of me. I know I am.
- It has not rained here for quite a while so the dust is getting pretty intense. The other day I was running and got to a portion of the road which had a layer of dust on it about 4 inches thick. It was a downhill slope so I got going pretty fast (and by “fast” I mean accelerating slightly faster than the average person’s walk, I am so out of shape it isn’t funny). Anyway, I am pounding down the hill and plumes of dust were exploding around my feet. Then I stepped on a rock. I realized I was going down and tried to stop myself which made my fall even more awkward. I went down like a tree in slow motion. To make this experience even better, I was running with one of my counterparts. She got a terrified look on her face as I teetered towards her, with good reason as I have about 3 feet and 25 pounds on her (I swear this country is going to give me a complex). Luckily I managed not to smash her into the dust, and sustained only minor scratches on my shin. So now I am an old wrinkled woman with child-like scrapes on her legs. To make this look complete, I sat in the sun the other day reading and the fronts of my legs are now a nice lobster red. I TOTALLY get why men in town catcall me (“Good morning I love you!”, “Baby!”) when I walk by, I am quite the package.
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