As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and for me, this chapter of my life spent in Honduras has concluded, a brief intermission in Chicago has begun, and soon, a new chapter in Carbondale will follow. I do have my hopes there will be a “Honduras– Revisited!” at some point, but that hope I will tuck into my heart and allow myself to find again one day, a surprise for when I go to put it in the wash and check the pockets. I was only in Honduras for a little less than half a year, but it feels like much longer. I am grateful to have met so many incredible people, all of which have made an impact on me in various ways. I have been shown more kindness than I deserve and that I could never pay back in full. Honduras quickly became my second home, not necessarily only in the physical sense, but by the people who immediately befriended me, who stayed patient all the times I got tongue-tied in Spanish, who laughed at my (supposedly) Russian-sounding r’s, who taught me how to cook, who showed me the best hiking trails, who made it their goal to have me try the “essential” Honduran foods (cough cough all of them), who shared their music and eagerly received mine back, spent their evenings with me, and made me feel more welcome in a foreign place than I usually feel at home.

Monday night I was put in contact with a school who was looking for a teacher to fill a last minute vacancy. Tuesday morning I scheduled an interview, and by afternoon I was given the job and told the school I was volunteering at immediately that I would be leaving. Wednesday morning I took a bus with one of the other teachers from the volunteer school and arrived in Santa Rosa de Copán. Thursday I settled in, and Friday I began teacher prep. Sometimes things happen quickly. My decision to leave Garden School Victoria was by no means an easy one, but as I reflect on it after, it was definitely the right one, and hopefully will continue to be the right one.

It’s been about three weeks since I left Chicago. In reality, it’s not that long of a time– some people even go on vacation for three weeks– but it has felt significantly longer. When I first got here, it was like entering a new world; I was an alien trying to figure out how to be. Culture shock is real. I remember doubting that I’d ever feel it when we talked about it a year ago in my TEFL course, but sure enough, it happens to the best of us. It feels isolating. It feels like an anxious knot in your stomach. You question why you’re here and what you’re doing. I looked at plane tickets online and thought about returning home. I know the feelings of culture shock aren’t over yet, and I’ll probably go through this again, but at the current moment I am doing a lot better. Having started teaching has given me more of a schedule, and I’m using this change to form new habits, hopefully with time for productivity and relaxation. All in all, I’d say it is helping me handle the differences and build a temporary little life here. So yay! Assimilation and positive changes! But we’ll get back to that later.

Shortly after arriving in Honduras, I was informed that the next week was a school holiday. All the other teachers would not be returning until the 10th of July, so I was essentially free to either stay alone in the volunteer house or take the time to travel. On a whim (and fighting an overwhelming urge to be stay home and “be productive,” whatever that is supposed to mean when you’ve hardly settled into life in a new country), I booked a bus ticket with Hedman Alas to a place on the west side of Honduras called Copán Ruinas. Other volunteers had done the trip prior, and they were able to give me very clear instructions on how to finagle it myself.

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.