What's for Dinner?

What’s for Dinner?

When I was drawing a blank as to what to post for July and August, I decided to document my food for a day and share it with you. Delving into the culture a little more, I also decided to give making flour tortillas from scratch a go. I also documented that process and have pictures to show the process.

Now, what I’m going to share in pictures makes it looks a little more exciting than what I usually eat. I won’t lie – I’m lazy and cooking for one is not frequently on my list of things to do each day. Many times I just have a bowl of cereal (corn flakes, because their cheap and so am I) in the morning and make a pot of rice at lunch that lasts until dinner. (Oh, I know my carb intake is ridiculous…but I take my multivitamin to get some good stuff in me.)

I like to incorporate fruit into my breakfasts. Today I had an apple, a banana and a yogurt. Other times, like in my photo I really love a smoothie. From time to time peanut butter is available in the grocery store and a peanut butter/banana smoothie is so good. Other times peanut butter is scarce, so I’ll substitute yogurt. This is not at all a typical Honduran breakfast and very much what I have brought with my experience from home.

Some of what I put in one of my smoothies - Milk, yogurt, a banana and some ice.  Yummy!

Thanks to my dad for sending me down some Raider stadium cups, I can still rep the team I love!

Lunch and dinner tend to have many of the same components.  I try to incorporate more veggies during the later meals of the day.  Just now for lunch I had some rice, beans and a chicken breast – well most of one, I like to share with my dog and cat.  In the photo is a fairly typical Honduran lunch.  Red beans, scrambled egg, a hunk of semi-dry cheese, mantequilla (which I’ve explained before – it’s like a mixture of sour cream and butter, but with a consistency of a runny sour cream), chicken bologna (my own addition because I try to get additional protein where I can and my grocer didn’t have any decent chicken cuts that week) and tortillas.  Obviously, no meal is complete without a good dousing of hot sauce.  I put it on everything, since I don’t even bother trying to season my food.

Almost a ''plato típico''

And then I tried to make tortillas all by myself.  I had previously assisted my host mom once and she gave me the recipe.  Another time I helped form the tortillas and cook them with a friend here in site.  I figured all that was left was to put the two parts of the process together and try it myself.  My end results were not bad for my first time.  I experimented A LOT with the dough and kept adding flour and vegetable shortening until I got a consistency that seemed somewhat near correct.  The first part of the process is combining the ingredients: flour, water, baking soda, shortening and a pinch of salt.  I did it the true Honduran way and just made room on the countertop to make the dough there.  It’s a little tricky creating the crater of dry ingredients and preventing the water from making a mess once you start the mixing.  After the dough is made, it needs to set for about an hour.  I don’t really know why, but I was told to leave it be.  Once the dough has set for awhile it’s ready to make the tortillas.  Start by balling the dough and then flattening it.  Here some people are good with their hands and are able to do it just by palming the dough, not this girl.  I used the trick taught to me by my host sister.  Use two pieces of plastic and flatten the ball of dough using a plate.  After that the raw tortilla can go on the heat to cook.  Here many people use fogones (wood burning stoves) and the tortilla cooking process is quite fast.  I don’t have a fogón in my house and just used my skillet on the stove.  It took me forever to cook the tortillas, but I finally finished about two hours later.  My end result was a little thicker and bread-i-er than tortillas normally are.  I still give myself a good grade because they tasted good, just with a new texture!

The dry ingredients with the crater made, waiting for the water to be added.  And my pot of beans cooking in the background.

The dough as I mixed it all over my fancy concrete countertop.

Letting it sit for awhile.

Ready to start pulling off chunks to make each tortilla.

So, these got out of order - this is the last step of cooking the tortilla.

Putting the ball of dough between two pieces of plastic to flatten it with a plate.  The plastic prevents sticking.

Ready to cook.

And enjoy!  (I have no vanity and no shame of posting unflattering pictures of myself anymore.  Thank you Honduras!)

And that my friends was a little glimpse into the culinary side of my life here in Honduras.  Thanks for reading!

Hasta la proxima vez…

Since I've been AWOL

I must apologize for my slacker-ness in keeping my blog up to date. As July was ending, there was nothing that seemed worthy of writing about and August seems to be heading for the same fate. None the less, I feel a sense of responsibility to this ridiculous medium and the handful of people who choose to read it. Yet again, I will hit you with the ever popular recap and summary of what’s been going on.

I kicked off July with another trip to Roatan in the Bay Islands, which is one of the most beautiful places in the world. A fellow PCV/really good friend’s family came to visit, rented a house and I got to tag along for the week. The most exciting part was learning how to SCUBA dive and getting my Open Water certification. Not to say I did this all fearlessly. I freaked out during our initial sub-surface practice and could have easily stood up and been out of the water. It proves how powerful an emotion fear is and how it completely takes away your sense of reasoning. Other skills such as removing your mask while underwater, swimming without the mask and pretending your tank is out of air and using a buddy’s air source are scary, yet necessary. Overall, I’m glad I did it and look forward to diving more in the future. Just maybe not off my native Pacific Coast in that cold, murky water… It will never compare with the warm, clear waters here and the tropical reef, which is second only to the Great Barrier of Australia.

Work has been just a lot of charlas in the high school the last two months. One of the teachers and I have been giving a series of classes to the “seniors” about the importance of developing skills which are important in the work place. After finishing with the seniors we started with “sophomores” with the idea that they will have to teach the class to 6th, 7th, and 8th graders next year. That way it’s more sustainable, the main goal of Peace Corps work – I’ll be gone, but the information will perpetuate and benefit more people in the future.

This week is the last week of service for the group that came in ahead of mine, known to us as H15. That will make my group, H16, the most seasoned veterans of Peace Corps service here in Honduras. So many cliché statements come to mind, but the truth is a cliché – I can’t believe it’s gone by so fast! An H15 volunteer who lives near me will be passing many of her belongings on to those of us who will still be here in country for awhile. I’m so excited to be inheriting her double bed! For the last six months I’ve been sleeping on a twin size bed that my landlady is loaning to me. It will be nice to feel like an adult again and not like I’m back in the college dorms.

There was an anecdote of an experience yesterday that I wanted to share. On a more personal level the Peace Corps is humbling experience and I’m frequently reminded to get off my sassy horse. After traveling into the capital, Tegucigalpa, for a dental appointment Monday afternoon, I was told my crown wasn’t in from the lab yet and would have to stay over night (luckily Peace Corps picks up the tab on hotels). Having not brought a change of clothes, I sucked it up, stayed the night and got my dental appointment in the next morning. After the appointment I headed to the part of town where buses bound for my town are. Arriving at 11:45, I learned one bus wouldn’t leave until 1:30. Being very impatient and loathing that bus terminal, I headed to the one around the corner where I was told the mini-bus would be leaving at 12:30. Sweet! I thought I’d scored and was stoked to get back home sooner. Well, time ticked by and 1:00 rolled by, then 1:30. Sure, I was frustrated…but of anything I’ve learned in Honduras it’s that schedules are not to be followed and you better have gallons of patience. As it was approaching 2:00, I was getting angry and imagining how I could tell the office manager how horrible they run their business, how disrespectful they are of people and how I would storm out to take the other company’s bus at 2:30. Trying to keep my cool, I again asked what time the mini-bus would leave, “Pronto, dentro de quince minutos” they told me. Not believing that it would be neither soon, nor within fifteen minutes, I checked the time on my phone – almost 2:30. My anger diminished and I felt like a real fool. The words twelve and two sound very similar in Spanish – doce and dos. The man had told me 2:30 when I first arrived, but I heard 12:30 and created all that anger and resentment myself. Luckily, I hadn’t made a fool of myself by doing any of what I’d conjured up in my mind. It was just another lesson in humility and realizing, for the “umpteenth” time, that things will rarely meet my expectations here and I need to just chill out. To further illustrate the point, the mini-bus got a flat tire on the way back home and we were delayed another half hour. All I could do was laugh at myself and appreciate the lesson that was being taught to me.

Well, with all that in mind – I think I’ve put together a decent post for those of you reading. I appreciate you paying attention to this, thanks mucho!

Hasta la proxima vez…

Reflections on life in the US and Honduras

I’ve been back in Honduras for 16 days since my trip home to the US. In that time I’ve wanted to blog and tell a little about my trip home and compare some of the things between the US and Honduras. Why did I wait so long though? Well, practical reasons such as being busy with work and having to take multiple trips to Tegucigalpa for a root canal. But, also reasons such as having to wait to soak in Honduras again instead of how I felt upon first returning from the US, basically getting used to it again. Thank God this time only took a few days instead of a couple of months like last year when I first got here.

On why I love America…

My trip to the US reminded me of what I love about America: variety and freedom. I know for a fact I’ve mentioned variety before and will preach on it again now, but it’s what makes the US so amazing. From my first moments back on US soil in the Atlanta airport trying to find food to eat I could see the variety all around. The first food I ate was a falafel pita followed by vanilla yogurt with fresh blueberries and strawberries for dessert. Nothing I would ever find outside of Tegucigalpa. Wandering the gates looking at all the destination cities reminded me of how huge the US is and how each different city is unique and has something to show for its culture and history. Skipping ahead to a few days into my trip, shopping for groceries where you can buy it all in one place and every item has its price posted, trips to Target when they were closing in half hour’s time (definitely NOT enough time) and restaurant menus (knowing it’s all available, whereas here in Honduras you will frequently be told a menu item is unavailable). The options made available on a daily basis in the US are truly overwhelming.

When I say freedom, I’m not talking the whole America, “Land of the free, home of the brave stuff.” None of the freedom of religion or speech stuff either – although extremists both liberal and conservative tend to abuse such freedoms. Of course I love all that, but that’s without saying. No, when I say freedom, I mean personal freedom. Freedom to live your life as you choose without other people interfering or judging (ok, they do it, but we don’t care in the US what people think about us). Also, freedom to go and be mobile. In Honduras I am under constant surveillance and scrutiny. Some local people gossip about me, which in the times I’ve been aware of it, has been malicious and fabricated. In the US we call people who try to bring you down “haters” and are told not to pay them any attention. It’s how we live and we do so without shame. I love that in the US everyone is too busy caring about their own life to not care about mine. That’s exactly how it should be.

Obviously, the best part of being home was seeing family and friends. From being accosted by the surprise attack of my best friend as I exited a SFO restroom to sprinting across the Denny’s parking lot to wrap my mom in a huge bear hug after seeing her for the first time in 15 months, the excitement of seeing friends and family was more than words. Having friends want to spend as much time with me as possible while I was in the US was the best feeling ever. It certainly made being at home feel like it was a billion times better than Honduras, instead of just the actual million that it is. Seeing my three- and five-year-old nephews go from being shy and ignoring me to fighting for my attention during a tickle war brought tears of joy to my eyes. I had feared their short memories would have erased me. The way everyone was vying for my time and attention made me feel so loved and wanted after spending time living without any family and great friends who are good people, but still people I can never have a good connection with like my US friends with whom I share native language and culture.

Coming back to Honduras…

While I was in the US I frequently caught myself saying, “When I get home…” referring to Honduras. People would catch it as well and seem to be surprised that I called Honduras home. The truth of the matter is that for the time being, it is my home. This is where I have my own house decorated and furnished (more or less, based on budget restrictions) the way I like it. My work is here. Like I mentioned in previous posts, I know I’m not saving the world and maybe not even changing lives, as I’d hoped, but I am really enjoying the work I have right now. I’ve found my niche here in Guaimaca working with youth and more specifically young girls. This “job” of being a volunteer is the best. It’s like being an entrepreneur with much less stress and responsibilities.

Don’t believe coming back wasn’t one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I have no contract with the Peace Corps. If I choose to end my service today, I could call someone right now and tell them as much. If that were the case I could probably be packed and out of the country within four or five days. However, besides the fact that I’m at a point where I’m really enjoying my work right now, I’ve got a lot of pride and a stubborn streak that won’t permit me to back out on my word of having made a two year commitment to the people of Guaimaca. As we approached the Honduran coast on the flight from Miami to Tegucigalpa and the pilot announced we would be landing within half an hour, my heart started an irregular rhythm and I couldn’t fight the urge to cry. As we circled the mountains and landed in Tegucigalpa I cried like a baby. I’m not entirely sure why. I can hypothesize that it may be because the awesomeness of a great trip back home was officially over and I was heading back to a life where I make so many sacrifices to do a job that sometimes isn’t as appreciated as I wish it were. Walking into the customs hall and standing in the ‘Honduran Nationals’ and ‘Residents’ line where I was checked back into country quicker than all the do-gooder short-term mission trip “gringos” by the customs agent that happens to be my friend’s mom helped me feel good about being back. I called a taxi driver I trust and he took me to the bus station which would lead me back to Guaimaca.

That whole process made me feel a different sense of freedom not like what I feel in the US. I am able to navigate this country and know how to do so safely, because of all the experience I’ve gained from living here for 15 months. That element of routine and familiarity is what made coming back to Honduras feel good. I got back to Guaimaca and fell into the groove that I had left a few weeks before. For the time being this is where I’m supposed to be and it feels right.

And it comes down to this…

My life in Honduras gives me responsibilities never before had in the US. Working with youth and shaping their future for one that will hopefully be different is very rewarding. In comparison with my US work, this is a million times more important. Brewing some coffee or making copies, which I did in my two previous jobs in the US were merely sources of income and didn’t have much importance as it’s something anyone can do. I’m an ambassador to the people of Guaimaca and it falls on me to do the US proud. I do all this work as best I can while teaching and trying to change stereotypes: both of Americans and what the future holds for a Honduran youth.

My trip back to the US was a very romanticized version of what life there is truly like. Friends and family were vying for my attention because I’d been gone for 15 months and will be gone for another 12. Day to day life in the US doesn’t have people clamoring for my time like that. People aren’t always willing to treat me when eating out on a normal basis in the US. Treating the poor Peace Corps Volunteer is something I will only be able to enjoy on that trip home. Being able to sleep in and do whatever you want for two weeks without any obligations is also very unrealistic of what my real life in the US would be like. OK, so sure the US far outshines Honduras for many reasons, but those for my trip home being amazing are highly exaggerated and I realize that if I were to up and leave Honduras, life back in the US would soon get back to the stressful, competitive, rat race that it is.

For the meantime, my home and life is in Honduras. I have work that’s meaningful and important not only to me, but others. My house is mine and I feel at home here. I have friends and work partners that help me navigate the difficulties of the culture and its ups and downs. My two pets are here and they are my babies right now. I have people who come to my front gate selling a bag of roma tomatoes for L. 5 ($0.26) and Couch Surfers from Texas, Poland and Sweden whom I would never meet in Modesto, but sure can in Honduras and share not only about the US, but Honduras as well. There is a friend who is willing to drive 90 km from Tegucigalpa to Guaimaca so that I can help her improve her English and she will help me improve my Spanish. I have the opportunity to travel to some of the world’s most beautiful islands and second largest coral reef to get SCUBA certified. Mayan ruins full of history await my visit and fresh mangoes and avocadoes grow in my backyard. Sure, I have to spend two hours hand washing my clothes each week, I’m lucky on the days I wake up to running water, I can get stuck on a bus for an extra hour because the tire blew out and the one they replaced it with is bald so we travel about 55 mph the whole way back, I always have candles on hand for when the power goes out and my house may or may not flood each time it rains, but this is home now and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

Hasta la proxima vez...

Reflections on Year 1

Ten things I have learned after being a Peace Corps Volunteer for one year.

1) I am in control – Peace Corps is probably one of the only jobs where you have complete and total freedom in the work place. If you want to work you will, if you don’t you won’t. The equation is no simpler than that. Any time I feel like I don’t have work it is my own responsibility. I am the employee of no one but my own mind and effort. If I don’t put forth the time and effort IT WILL NOT HAPPEN. The outcomes that you want will only come if you push them.
2) I am NOT saving the world – I never really had that mindset to begin with. However, I certainly thought I would be welcomed with open arms and all my ideas would be eagerly accepted and immediately put into practice. I am the educated American after all. Such is definitely not the case. Hondurans are a ridiculously proud bunch and at the same time the majority is accustomed to hand-outs. In two years I will not single handedly break their pride nor wean them from their ‘poor me’ mind set.
3) The children are the future – In the past year, I’ve felt the best working with youth and children. They make up the future of this country and for them it’s not too late. I soak up every minute I’m with them. They’re still impressionable and I can actually impart some wisdom on them. I can teach them the value of hard work, thinking outside the box and planning for the future. Blowing kids minds with new ideas and killing the stereotypes is definitely the most rewarding part of this job.
4) Respect the culture and accept it for what it is – There is no delicate way of saying this. The culture here is culprit for many of the pitfalls in the society. Women aren’t respected, neither is education. A society that doesn’t respect all members doesn’t respect itself. I’ve come to terms with this. The culture here is male dominated, women are second class citizens and men rule. Fine, I’ll mind my business and you mind yours. Until the women here decide to stand up for themselves and demand equal treatment, the culture and country will stagnate as it is. Education is purely at the whim of teachers when they decide to give classes and not be on strike. Kids are taught they’re not worthy of receiving a decent education and therefore not worth much. What do kids get at that age besides an education anyway? Just another issue that needs to be addressed.
5) Platonic may as well be another planet – Men and women cannot be friends in Honduras. To say otherwise is a complete lie. In the past year I’ve been burned by three men who were merely friends. My crazy American mindset was just far too forward thinking for the machismo male. I am fully aware of the definition of insanity – doing the same thing repeatedly expecting different results. In my second year I am not even talking to a Honduran male unless he is an employee of the business I am visiting, a relative of a friend or happens to be in one of my classes. Life is easier that way.
6) Home is where the heart is – Living on your own in Honduras makes life a million times easier. My first ten months of service I lived either with a host family, in a small studio room where I had to use my landlady’s kitchen, or with a family sharing a room with my future landlady and her five year old daughter. Essentially I’m an only child and for the majority of my life I’ve had my own room with my own space. Living in a different country where the culture is repressive is hard enough without having your own space to escape to at the end of the day. The last two months of living on my own have been amazingly refreshing and have given me an entirely different outlook on life in Honduras. You can take the girl out of America, but you can’t take the American out of the girl!
7) Study aboard is not sufficient to prepare you for Peace Corps life – Sure, I lived in Spain for nine months. They were the best nine months of my life. I lived in a dorm, had my meals in the cafeteria each day and was always surrounded by other people experiencing the same thing as me. Studying to better yourself is nothing like trying to convince people to better themselves by following your ideas and advice. The only thing that can truly prepare you for Peace Corps service and its challenges is living life as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
8) Gringos are my life support – Unlike the study aboard program, I’m on my own in this town. Sure there are approximately 200 of us volunteers here in Honduras, but that’s across the whole country. Without a doubt they are what keep me going. Parties, texts and phone calls with other volunteers brighten my day, encourage me to keep up the fight and are my outlet. No one in the world knows exactly what I’m going through besides another Peace Corps Volunteer. More specifically due to the challenges of this country, a fellow Honduras volunteer. Venting, sharing ideas and positive outcomes of our peers is the best life line for us. If I were truly alone in this, I may have thrown in the towel months ago.
9) I know who I am – My entire school life, from the age of 5-23, I was in Adventist schools. The other kids had similar backgrounds and beliefs. Being vegetarian was normal and observing the Sabbath was what we did. I’ve finally broken out of that bubble and have met people from other backgrounds, religions and beliefs. It’s refreshing hearing their stories and respecting them for who they are. I still know where I come from, what I believe and why. My beliefs are now stronger than before because I’ve discussed them, tested them and debated them with people who would otherwise write them off as ridiculous. It’s refreshing and rewarding.
10) It’s just two years – I chose to serve in the Peace Corps. Honduras was not even a county on my radar of possibilities. When I got my letter inviting me to Honduras, I was disappointed. I had hoped for other countries. Now that I’ve lived here for over a year, I still feel like I got the short end of the stick at times. A Returned Peace Corps Volunteer who served in both Honduras and Bolivia said Honduras is “Peace Corps Light.” The country is close enough to the US that all culture is influenced by the North and the Honduran Dream is getting to the US to make big bucks. The culture tries to emulate that of the US. In Bolivia they are hardly aware the US in a country. Sure, they’ve probably heard of it, but they could care less about emulating the culture and ever dreaming of going there one day. It’s sad to say, but I feel Honduras may never overcome its status of developing country. Heck, they’re still recovering from Hurricane Mitch which passed in 1998. When the country suffered a coup two years ago their GDP was severely affected and many organizations failed when international aid was temporarily cut off. So, in its 50 year history here in Honduras, I don’t know that Peace Corps has been all that great. Sometimes I think we’re just perpetuating the seeking hand out mentality that the people tend to focus on or creating dependence on an educated, motivated American being around. All I know is that in my two years I will focus on making a true sustainable difference where the people I choose to work with will be able to perpetuate the good work even after I’m gone. And I probably won’t tell Peace Corps to replace me with another volunteer. Can’t create dependence for one thing and besides that I’m just too hard an act to follow!
11) BONUS! – Variety is not the spice of life, it is the very essence! The variety of the US is dizzying compared to lack there of here in Honduras. Many things here are either/or options. Catholic or Evangelical. Nationalista or Liberal. Montagua or Olimpia (Real Madrid or Barcelona). Pepsi or Coke. The lack of variety creates a huge divide and strain on the culture. People are always arguing about which is right or better. I miss the US and its variety, acceptance and open mindedness. There are more religions than we can count, there are more sports than just soccer and each league has around 30 teams, trendy brands of water are more popular than soda and well, sadly the political situation is about as lame. The US is just an amazing place and I am so thankful for all that it has to offer.

Hasta la proxima vez...

Not So Super-stitious

Let me preface this blog by saying I am not superstitious. The whole idea really strikes me as ridiculous. Black cats, stepping on cracks, breaking mirrors and Friday the 13th – whatever. Yet, my Friday the 13th turned out to be a real nightmare this year. Read on, if you dare!

The day was great. I prepped for the charla I give on Saturdays, hung out with two of my friends, made banana pancakes and even figured out how to finish the project I’m helping finish for my friend who left me in charge of an important project. That was until the evening when I came home.

Now, it’s summer here and summer means rain, heavy rains. I had just gotten home and it was around 8:30. Then the rain started and came down hard. I was trying to do my Zumba workout which I couldn’t even hear due to how loud the rain was pounding on my aluminum roof. Doing some perfectly performed Samba-like move, I danced to the side and noticed my back room was flooded. I paused my video and ran to check for a leak from the roof. Nope, nada. Instead what I saw was Hollywood-esque special effects of water surging in from under the wall via the soil. Really?! I have the back room papered in an effort to train my dog, so I thought, “OK, more paper!” I laid down a few more sheets of newspaper and tried to continue with my workout. Yah, it was like that saying, “Trying to put a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.” In a few seconds the sheets of newspaper were being carried away by the running water. I panicked – my house was quickly filling with water and I was short a couple sand bags.

Having to do something to save my few precious possessions, I began getting all my things off the ground. Suitcases and pack on chairs and tables, guitar on the book shelf, colchonetas suspended between two chairs and external hard drive up on the table and off the floor. Knowing that my belongings were safe, I called my land lady. The noise from the rain was so loud she couldn’t even hear me. I was just yelling “Hay agua en la casa!”

She hurried over and assessed the situation. Then she disappeared as I was fretting over the rising water. Turns out she was outside moving the old terra cotta roof tiles away from the outside wall of my house, in the tropical torrential downpour. Having to act like I was trying to help I quickly changed out of my New Balance and grabbed my flip flops. It was classic: drenched, throwing the tiles aside while trying to not break them and pleading with God that any creatures hadn’t decided to take refuge there we were in the rain just trying to save our house. (Mine in the meantime and hers in another year.) After all the tiles were moved my landlady found a hoe and started making a trench for so that the water had somewhere to flow to, besides under the bricks and into my house. All that hard work resolved the issue of the water entering the house.

All that was left to do was deal with the water that had already made its way into the house. My bedroom, kitchen and living room were all under a couple inches of water (and mud). But, before I continue my story I have to explain that my house is sunken. As in you have to step down upon entering. In many homes someone could just take the broom and push the water out the front door. Well, not in my house. My landlady and I set to work with my five gallon bucket, a small pail and a Gladware container, scooping water and filling the bucket, team lifting it to dump outside and starting all over again. I’d say we filled and dumped it about fifteen times (around 75 gallons of water). My landlady mopped up what little was left and we called it a night after about a two hour ordeal.

So, that was the story. Not let me point out a few things that would have made the situation a lot worse. 1) Thank God I was home when this happened. Had I not been here, or had left for the weekend, my stuff would have been ruined and no one would have found out until later. Being here I was able to save all my stuff. 2) Thank God Honduran homes don’t have carpet. It would be ruined and clean up that much harder. 3) Thank God there was light. Many times during the heavy rains the power goes out. Last night the power had actually gone out for about 15 min. and when that happens there’s no saying it won’t happen again. Doing all that clean up by candle light would have been just perfect. 4) Thank God my landlady lives about 100 ft. away. Otherwise, I don’t know who I would have called and who would have bothered to come so quickly.

Anyway, that was my event for Friday the 13th. Below is the video I took post clean up so everyone could check out the aftermath.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_hGkhxxUIg&feature=channel_video_title

Hasta la proxima vez…

Check out my Honduran Home!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGcBlCbQqAo

Ditto for April!

I honestly have no idea where the time goes down here in Hondu. It really was just this time last month where I was in the same position of trying to get a blog post on the last day of the month just to say I got one out for the month. Unfortunately, this month will be the same thing of just a summary of my month as opposed to some witty funny anecdote of Honduran life.

Yo Merezco - This is a Peace Corps Honduras project created a few years back by the Health project. It is designed for girls age 10-15 and teaches about abstinence, self esteem, health relationships, HIV/AIDS, human rights, menstruation, anatomy and puberty, amongst other things. I started this project with a group of around fifteen girls. We meet Saturdays and I change their lives and blow their minds. OK, not really…but I do try to get the good messages across to them as best I can! :)

Chamber of Commerce – Things are continuing along with this project. We had a second meeting here in Guaimaca with some representatives from Tegucigalpa with a better showing of people this time around. Still not exactly the numbers we had hoped for, but they say the turnout we got was actually a good number for Guaimaca… Something about motivational problems here. The afternoon and days following the meetings we took to the streets with a team of five people from the Teguz office doing a survey. The survey was essentially asking to see if the local businesses would be interested in having a Chamber of Commerce here in town and what the benefits would be for them as business owners. We didn’t get as many respondents as we hoped for, however after speaking with the central office, things still look good. I should be hearing from them on Monday to know what decision they’ve made and to learn the survey results.

Showing ‘em the ropes – For a few days this month a couple of Trainees came to visit me. These are the people who are here and will soon be sworn in to be the next crop of brand new Peace Corps Honduras Volunteers. They sent two young women my way and they got to see my work for two days. It’s a really good tool that Peace Corps permits the Trainees to visit current Volunteers to get a feel of what life here is really like. The conditions during training and living with host families are much different from our day-to-day life as Volunteers.

Semana Santa – Or Holy Week to my English speaking friends. Holy Week here in Honduras is essentially Spring Break. Most institutions are closed for the whole week and many people get to escape to the beaches. Here in Guaimaca both the Alcaldia and high school I work with took the whole week off. I followed suit and enjoyed some time with friends and relaxed. It was AMAZING and a much needed vacation.

Amor y Frijoles – This is the title of a Honduran movie which was filmed in the town where I lived during most of my training last year. It was pretty much my first taste of Honduran culture, or at least holds a special place in my heart. With having my new house, I decided to fill it with pets to make it a little homier. I was gifted a dog and a cat from two different friends. Both are all black. My dog, which I got first, is a mutt but looks like a Lab. I’m glad about that. Oh yah, her name would be Frijoles. My cat has green eyes and has just joined us at home about three days ago. She is Amor and I’m hoping she grows fast since she’s not the cutest right now…

So again, those are the highlights of a month flown by. I’ve made another Cribs style video of my house since I’m finally all settled in and everything is in its place. I’m going to try to include the video here for everyone to see.

Thanks for reading!

Hasta la proxima vez…