Try this ham, it's made of chicken!

Well, I suppose it has been a while and I have been yelled at a couple of times for not writing, so I will do my best to remember the events of the past month or so….my method is to scribble down a word or so on a piece of paper so I remember to write about it when I finally sit myself down. Unfortunately I am currently looking at my scribbles and I have no idea what some of them are referring to (seasons? What does that refer to Sarah?). Considering I have been doing a whole lot of nothing lately, this is pretty pathetic but, oh well.

• To begin this story, I have to give a brief explanation of my room (not sure if I have already). Anyway, I live in an apartment over the garage. To get to my room you have to climb up a set of stairs and cross a balcony. My only window looks out over my neighbors’ roof. Keep this visual in mind…The other night I was sitting in my bed reading. It was around 10:30. Now 10:30 may not seem super late to you but it is the Honduran equivalent of about 1:30 (most nights I am in my pjs by 8, I know…party animal). Suddenly there was a knock on my door. I asked who it was and the person (a man) just kept saying “soy yo” (it’s me). Well, as I was not sure who “yo” was referring to I was certainly not going to open the door. So, I did the only thing I could think of, which was nothing. I sat frozen in my bed and refused to say anymore. He knocked for a little while longer and then finally I heard him leave. Needless to say I was relieved. I continued reading and then I heard whistling and “Sarrrriiiitaaaa” “sarrrrriiitaaa” I assumed that the guy had decide to continue trying to talk to me from the road outside of my house. Then, I looked up and what do I see outside my second story window? Creepy man trying to shove his face between my window bars. I jumped up and immediately pulled the curtain all the way shut and told him to go away. “But I only want to talk to you!” I could not figure out how to say “creeper” in Spanish so I spanglish yelled at him and then called my host family’s landline. My host mom picked up and I told her what was going on. My host dad wasn’t home yet but she told me she was going to call him. About 10 minutes later I heard them rushing up the steps. My rescue party consisted of my host dad, my host mom armed with a machete, and my 7 year old host brother. Normally I would question the thought process that would lead to bringing both a machete AND a 7 year old, but who am I to question my rescuers? I have seen him punch his siblings pretty hard in the face so, who knows. At this point Creeper McGee was long gone. We stood on the balcony for a little bit discussing the incident and then they went back to the house. I went back into my room and settled in. Then, I heard noises on the balcony. I debated calling the host family again when I got a text message from my host dad. It said “Sarita, I am sorry if you heard me, I turned off all the lights and I am hiding in the hammock to see if he will come back and I can catch him!” The next day he installed a stronger lock on my door. Needless to say, I am well taken care of here. My only problem is that we never figured out who it was so now every time I see a guy between 18 and 30 I suspect him of being the creeper…

• My host mom really likes to make pizza, which for some reason is pronounced peekza here. Peekza cannot possibly be made without “queso Kraft” and ham. I don’t really know why those two ingredients are so crucial but it is literally unheard of to make it without, especially without queso kraft (which is that yellow cheese that comes wrapped in plastic and is generally pretty terrible tasting.) The peekza is decent, but the queso kraft tends to form a layer of melted plastic that sticks to the roof of your mouth. Oh, and the ham is inexplicably made of chicken…yum. Speaking of chicken, the other day one scared the bejesus out of me because it was tied to a table in the courtyardish area. Guess what we had for lunch the next day? Sorry buddy.

Visiting!
At the beginning of the month I ventured out to my friend Christine’s site which is..only…an 11 hour voyage. I decided to visit because 1) I enjoy Christine’s company, 2) I was bored, and 3) it was her site’s feria. Pretty much every pueblo in Honduras has their own feria, which is pretty much like a town fair. My day began when I got up at 3 am. I was on the bus by 3:30, and I assure you I was looking positively divine. It was the standard 4 hour ride to La Esperanza, and I frequently drifted off and was awoken when I slammed my head into the window (bruised? Yes.) When I got to La Esp I threw my stuff on the bus and then went to grab some breakfast, since I had about 45 minutes to kill. Imagine my surprise when 15 minutes later I was finishing up my coffee and saw my bus (and my stuff) starting to pull away. I ran out and threw my body in front of the bus to make him stop. Luckily, the breaks were working and I hopped on. I ended up in a nice roomy seat in the very back of the bus. I was finally comfortable and started to go to sleep. Then the lady in front of my opened her window. Now, I know it will come as a surprise but the La Esp area is actually pretty cold sometimes. I would say it was about 55-60. This, when you are on a bus that actually occasionally goes above 30 mph, is cold. She was wedging her head out the window and spiting a lot (which was flinging back in and hitting the guy sitting next to me, lovely.) Obviously she was feeling car sick but geez lady, close the window and use the barf bag. As we drove, we picked up more and more people and they had to stand, and since I was on the back there were a lot packed in around me. The sick lady retreated under a towel and the guy sitting next to me shut her window (hero!). Therefore, I was able to sleep for a bit. When I woke up I looked around me and came to the slow realization that EVERYONE around me was desperately clutching their barf bags to their faces. I somehow ended up in the puke capital of the world. Gross. I was definitely not upset when my bus pulled up to my stop. I got off and (naturally) headed straight to Wendy’s for a little comida Americana. Then I popped in the grocery store (an actual supermarket!) and purchased some essential supplies for my visit (these supplies may rhyme with drum and dodka). I also bought some peekza supplies as Christine is Italian and makes a mean peekza (despite the fact that it lacks queso kraft and hamchicken). Then I headed for my next bus. Another very dusty four hours later I pulled into Christine’s (very hot) site. We dropped my stuff off at her house, I attempted to beat the dust out of my once black, now brown, pants and we headed to watch a soccer game. Then we visited her friends and headed to watch bull riding. The bull riding was interesting to watch. I still can’t decide which was more frightening; watching the bulls and the crazy men or the makeshift bleachers we were sitting on. Nevertheless, it was an interesting experience. In addition to the bull riding and bull baiting, they had dancing horses which were cool. Then we headed to Christine’s house and I took a much needed nap while she went to watch the town queen crowned. That night there was a dance so Christine, her site mate, and I went and confirmed the fact that gringos can’t dance. It was a pretty wild night, especially considering the fact that I was going on zero sleep. The next day I was essentially dead. Christine went to a baptism and I slept more because I literally could not move. In addition to being super tired, I had a mysterious bite on my foot and it swelled up to about twice the normal size and had a lovely puss bubble on it. Charming. Later that day we went and visited her friends and watched traditional dancing. Then we went to a wake. That’s right. A wake. Typical. Slightly awkward considering I did not know the woman who died, but… an interesting cultural experience? FYI we went to the wake at 10:30pm. Honduran Catholic wakes last 24 hours (I think) and people show up when they want to. Then Christine and I headed home. I was excited to go to bed but unfortunately, in addition to the mystery bite on my foot, I also got attacked by biting ants so BOTH my feet were terribly swollen, itchy and painful so I spent most of the night reading with my feet soaking in water like an old woman. The next day we headed to a river to swim. The trip home was, as expected, pretty painful (especially with my giant gross feet). I had the pleasure of talking to a man that kept repeating a phone number to me. He informed me it was the telephone number of California. Really? How does California pick up the phone, it doesn’t have hands.

Colo’s Feria
This week was Colo’s feria. We kicked it off by going to the first round of the Miss Colomoncagua contest. Sounds harmless enough, right? Three hours later, I wasn’t quite sure. They only had three outfit changes (“casual” which translates to borrowing your infant sister’s mini skirt and wearing a tube top, “cowboy” which again involved said infant’s mini skirt paired with a button up shirt tied in such a way that the entire stomach shows, and “sporty” which, believe it or not also frequently involved the mini skirt (I recall how I loved wearing miniskirts when I played soccer…)). The girls “modeled” for a million years. They would walk around the stage a thousand times (it was sort of like they were being flushed down a giant toilet, around and around and around), then they would walk down the “catwalk.” Then they would do it in pairs. Then in groups of four. Then they would walk diagonally. Then in a circle again. Literally, hours of this. The second round was held about a week later and was no different, except there was a ball gown section instead of a sporty section. Miniskirts continued to be well represented. After the girls answered pretty typical questions (“What do you think we should do about the trash in Colo?”….uhhhh throw it in a can instead of the street?) the queen was finally crowned. After the crowning there was a huge dance. I opted not to go to the dance considering the last dance I attended resulted in me getting mauled by every bolo in the place (not to mention the infamous machete dancer).

• A couple days later it was time for the Little Miss Colomoncagua contest. My host mom asked me if I could blow dry and straighten my little sister’s hair for it. She said “I am sure you know how to do it, because I don’t!” um.. have you seen the seven straight hairs on my head that dry in one minute? I will try but am certainly no expert. I think I ended up doing a pretty good job. The Little Miss contest had a casual category, cowboy category and fancy category. It was (slightly) shorter than the grownup version. My host sister ended up being the Queen of Peace (everyone got a title). I found this quite ironic considering the fact that she screams 95% of the day.
• The rides at the feria are an American lawyer’s worst nightmare (or greatest dream, if they are the type that enjoys nothing more than the sight of an ambulance’s taillights). Nothing is roped off, and the boys enjoy playing chicken with the rides. The Ferris wheel (aka wheel of Chicago) goes about a million miles an hour. The rickety little seats swing like crazy and there is not height requirement. I opted not to ride. Another great danger is the plethora of French fry venders. I assure you they are not checked over by a health inspector (six day old grease, dirty potatoes, and warm mayo…yummmmy).
• One of the most popular things in the feria are the shooting games. My host brothers have spent pretty much the whole week shooting pellet guns at army men. The culminating event was an actual real pistol/rifle shooting contest. Where did this take place? Right outside my house. Slightly frightening given the amount of young children and old bolos milling about, but at least I got a good seat.
• I realize my report of the feria has been a bit negative nancy-ish. It really is a great event and the whole town pulls together to make it happen. In addition, I got a super nice hammock for the equivalent of about 15 dollars! As for the other stuff, I am just a grouchy hater of crowds and ceremonies.

House news: I should be moving into my very own house at the beginning of next month. Wooooo. My landlord is actually one of my counterparts and is super nice. He and his family just opened a restaurant in one of their houses which is right by my future house. They used to live in the restaurant house so it has a nice living room and a tv (separate from the restaurant) which he invited me to use whenever I wanted. Considering I will not have a couch and maybe won’t have a tv, this is great news.
Work news: School started today! This means I will be working again (hopefully). Unfortunately I will still be teaching a fair amount of English but I am also going to have other projects to work on so I am pretty excited. It is crazy how different school works here. As an example, last night we were at the feria and my host mom and a friend sent my host brother to the director of the elementary school’s house to find out if school would be starting today. His reply “yeaa, I think so.” I got to the elementary school this morning and we sang the national anthem and listened to some speeches and then the teachers had a faculty meeting. This is while all the children are running wild outside. We talked for about an hour and a half and were actually discussing who would teach which grade and in which classroom. Can you imagine showing up to an elementary school in the States on the first day and finding out that the teachers weren’t even positive which grades they would be teaching? Crazy.

That’s about it for now. I think I forgot a whole lot, I will try to be better about updating. Miss you all!