There is no other way to begin this other than “greetings from Honduras!” And wow, does it feel strange to say that! Although I’m definitely getting used to the changes, I know that mentally accepting the fact that I’m here will take some time.
I left Chicago Tuesday morning, and after some issues with Spirit I was moved to a later flight. My time in the airport was relatively uneventful. I had a long layover at LAX and decided it was better to just camp out there than risk trying to explore. The time, tiredness, and loneliness did get to me, though, and I had a fun little cry about 20-something hours into my airport adventures. I kinda realized that some important people in my life would be in a different place when I return to Illinois and that I had some feelings I didn’t really know that I had. Nevertheless, post-tears and overpriced airport snacks, I made it to Honduras around 7am Wednesday.
There, the director of the school picked me up and we chatted in the car on the way to the school and later volunteer house. It was my first Spanish conversation here, and I felt it went relatively well. Unfortunately, since then I haven’t had too many people to really talk to in Spanish other than asking for jugo de naranja (not zumo apparently) at the pulpería down the street or thanking the cook at the school for lunch (a homemade, authentic Honduran lunch I may add). While alone in the house and unpacking, a Canadian woman named Beth walked in, followed by a very pregnant dog I now know to be Arba. She was older, maybe late 40’s, clad in big sunglasses, summery blonde hair, and a flowy cotton dress. She was the watermarked stock image of a white person enjoying life in the tropics, and she quickly helped me learn the ropes of Honduran living. Although definitely a bit more chatty and opinionated than I am used to, she was incredibly kind and energetic. I also found out that she would be leaving the coming Sunday; it really felt like she was the NPC in a video game that helps you through the tutorial level haha. Thankfully I have her contact information so I can keep her posted on the puppy situation.
After, the volunteer coordinator and another teacher took me to the neighboring town, Cofradía, to teach me how to use the buses. Well. Let’s just say the buses here are most definitely different from those of Chicago. There is very little infrastructure so the buses are just small personal buses/vans that regular people drive. Essentially, you stand on the side of the road and wave one down. When it stops, they crowd you in to the point where you are practically on someone’s lap, maybe next to a chicken or sack of corn, and they immediately speed away, going far faster than what is reasonable for dirt roads on hillsides, usually swerving into oncoming traffic to cut in front of “slow” cars, all with blasting music on for your enjoyment, of course. The only positive of this is that they only cost about 20 lempiras, which is less than a US dollar. Oh, and it feels like you’re in a high speed chase, which is pretty exhilarating.
In Cofradía, I was shown a cute cafe (with AC, WiFi, and a bathroom), functioning ATMs, and some other locations of importance. I also secretly people-watched. One of my favorites was a man wearing a shirt that said “Redneck Rebel,” hands down. Now, this was my first real time out in public here, and I soon learned what happens when you are a white woman in a machismo culture: catcalling. I don’t mean like the odd person yells something at you, no. I mean like nearly every single man you come across will incessantly honk, yell, “pssht pssht,” whistle, or follow you. I was told I’ll get used to it, but it still hasn’t resolved internally for me yet.
That night, I helped Beth with cooking (which, disclaimer, I’m still kinda bad at somehow and definitely need to work on), and once the meal was done and everyone headed to their rooms, the two of us stayed out and chatted. Somewhat later in the night a beetle easily the size of an egg decided to pay us a visit by promptly crashing on the ground. We waited a second in hopes of a lizard claiming its meal, but to no avail; the beetle was simply too large for the mouths of those present. It was making the most horrendous hissing and wing-shuttering sounds, so we took a broom and tried to slide it away. This ended up angering it, and it kept coming back. So, like the sensible gringas we were, we took the broom and started whacking it. We unintentionally made such a commotion that the kids playing soccer next door came to see what was up, to which we now had a cheering audience rooting for the demise of the bug. Oh, and were we victorious!
The next day I headed to the school and was given teacher training, as well as a big conversation regarding safety. The truth of the matter is that Honduras is a dangerous country, especially as a woman. What I also want to say is that Honduras is much more than that, and if I say anything regarding this matter, it is more there as something new to me/discussion, not a stereotype or generalization of the country. I mean, I’m coming from Chicago, one of the US’s murder capitals, yet it still has so much more to offer. I could tell stories of how there was a rape/murder in the parking garage I used everyday at UIC and things like that, but it is not the only side to the city I’ve come to love. I think that is where my “leap of faith” regarding Honduras comes from.
Once done with school, I took the bus to San Pedro Sula with the volunteer coordinator again and visited the mall. We also obtained provisions for the little fiesta we were holding as a goodbye for Beth, which ended up being a lovely night of conversation, wine (not for me), and music while watching the lightning in the distance.
Friday was my first scheduled power outage, which really wasn’t much of an outage after all. I stayed home since without WiFi I wouldn’t be able to do much regarding class and spent the morning on the patio figuring out how I wanted to spend what turns out to be a week off due to a school holiday. My neighbor saw me out there and brought me soursop and mangoes fresh off the tree, which I thought was the sweetest thing. I was also informed by Beth that my curly hair has caused quite a ruckus and I now have a local boy pining after me. We will burn that bridge when we get to it though. Once properly antsy from staying at the house all afternoon, I put on my hiking boots and tried to head to Cofradía by foot. The trip took about an hour each way and was remarkably beautiful. Again, there was the excessive cat calling (and accidentally getting water from the river you have to cross in my shoes), but it was otherwise incredibly fun. I also had to chance to stop in the supermarket there, which I soon realized was some sort of subsidiary of Walmart. It was rather amusing to see Great Value brand items in the mix, although the overall selection was extremely different from what I’m used to. It also helped me realize what is and isn’t popular here, to the point where I might make a whole post talking about that. I then returned home, went to bed, and woke up to a glorious lazy Saturday, albeit mixed in with a bit of “oops that agua fresca I bought probably had bad ice in it.” Now we are back in the present, and I am listening to the bird songs, slice of goodbye cake aside me, writing this post. Tomorrow I head to Copán to visit the ruins for the next few days since I have the time off. Fingers crossed I’ll see some gorgeous sights and meet new people!
Happy reading,
-Beppa