So, before I came down to Honduras I downloaded a bunch of podcasts to help me learn. One of these included “What to do if you have to go to the hospital.” Little did I know that today would be the day this podcast came in handy. The day started as normal as possible, with a muni D project in the morning, discussing a position called Personalidad Juridca, which loosely translates into “a figure representing one person or a group” and is necessary if you want to mage money or be recognized by the State of Honduras. After making it through that jargon, I devoured an entire loaf of banana bread from the panaderia in Santa Lucia. They have started coming to PST every Thursday, b/c they figured out they can make bank from the American’s. I just started shoveling it in my mouth and couldn’t stop. I have a problem. Then, I had a doctor’s appointment in Tegucigalpa at the dermatologist. The PCMO was very understanding when I went to her and said “Look, my face is massively breaking out, more than normal.” This is obviously not a new problem to the PCMO and she booked me an appointment pronto. After hightailing it back into the white SUV towards Teguz I practiced my Spanish with Victor and he noted that I am getting pretty good (even I was impressed at the new words I have begun to accumulate into my vocabulary) and after the 30 minute drive he wheeled me into the Teguz Medical Center. To my surprise it resembled a Kaiser Facility in San Diego (slightly run down and $1 to park for an hour). After accompanying me upstairs, I noticed Victor took one look at the sign on the door, which read OBGYN and notified me that he would wait downstairs. Little did he know I was only here for a little acne. So, after checking in I headed to the bathroom to clean my face for the doctor, where I witnessed the receptionist as well. After using the toilet, she walked right out…past the sink, and didn’t wash her hands. So, that was disgusting. Once back in the waiting room I decide to take this time to study my Spanish since my next language interview is in one week. As soon as I bust out my notebook, the guy next to me says “Oh, you are studying Spanish?” “Where are you from, what are you doing here, do you speak English?” Therefore, for the next hour he proceeds to speak English to me and tell me all these stories about how he used to live in the states (for 28 years), he has two kids and a girlfriend in Florida, was a truckdriver all over from East Coast to West Coast, and is so happy to talk English to me. Yes, well that is great, but I am not here to speak English and what in the hell are you doing back in Honduras? He tells me he is working for a diplomat here-did I see the guy who just went in for a doctor’s appointment? No, because I was minding my own business! Then, the question comes that I have been waiting for. Do I have a phone number? No, I don’t. So, he gives me his. Yeah, because I am going to call him one day when I am really lonely and looking for a friend in Honduras. Whatever, I write it down to amuse him. Then, tell him I have been waiting for 45 minutes (which I have) and go over to my dirty receptionist and ask her if she has forgotten about me. She looks at me bored as hell and says “No, you are Jenifer.” Yes, that’s right…the only gringa up in the hospital. And, by hospital waiting room, I mean a small desk with a calculator, telephone, and one old computer that we had at my house in 1992 (upon which her daughter is using and chomping Bubble Yum). Anywho, after another 15 minutes she calls my name and gives me a little piece of paper with a doctor’s name written on it in Spanish, then talks really fast in Spanish with some sort of directions and points to a hall. After beginning to walk, I look down the hall and it looks like something out of the Shining, so I head back to her and ask her for the room number. I only catch the last two digits, but figure I can find something that ends in 25, so turn back and take a right. After locating the right office, I knock on the door and hope I don’t walk in on some sort of private surgery, when the doctor says “Entrada.” As soon as I enter he begins talking in Spanish and I ask him “Habla English.” He does reply yes, but then proceeds to have the entire appointment in Spanish. My brain is on fire and I am trying to remember all the phrases my podcast has taught me, except I don’t think they specifically focused on visiting a dermatologist. After about five minutes, he has diagnosed the problem and given me three new meds to find a solution. He also tells me that my epilepsy medication is the main cause of this, which is completely new news to me since I have been taking that for about 8 years. But now, it all makes sense. As he tells me he wants me back in one month, I say “Oh, that will be right around my birthday.” And he replies, “I thought you said your birthday was September 1,” Sooooo….I guess this Spanish conversation was not exactly claro? Then, as I go to leave he sneezes directly in his hand, wipes it on his pants and then outstretches it to shake mine! WTF! I am going to leave this hospital with more diseases than I came with.
Back in the reception area, the employee of the month is nowhere in sight so I can give her my PC paperwork. After waiting for five minutes I am about to give up when she comes trotting in on her purple high heels (along with hot pink pants, I kid you not) holding an American Espresso coffee and bag. Apparently one hour of work was too much for her (she is there from 3-6:30). I hand her my papers and she half heartedly stamps them and without so much as an Adios, she turns back to her latte. So, I guess I’ll see you in a month, ey?
Friday, July 16, 2010
My last language class at PST was today. This also meant I received my language evaluation from my facilitator. Outside during our one-on-one my facilitator told me I was doing really well and that I can speak in full sentences, but you can still hear my American accent often, and I need to focus on my verb tenses. She said I am a big help in class with the other students and often incorporate new words during our sessions. So, I guess learning that word murcielago (bat) was a good thing? Because, I know I will be using that A LOT. Since today is the last day at PST, next week I will be put into a new class at FBT (field base training). I will also have a new teacher and have class at their house every morning. In another week and a half I have my second language interview. There are three all together and if you progress then you move up levels. I am trying to get out of novice high into an intermediate level. Other ways I practice are by listening to my podcasts in the morning/night, talking with my family for hours upon hours a day, reading Spanish newspapers/books, and sometimes watching Spanish TV. We don’t watch a lot of TV at my house, but I have a feeling that is about to change. In the afternoon we got the information about our new FBT families. I will be living with a single mom, 48 years old, and she is a teacher at the primary school. She has two nieces that live with her, 18 and 14, and she has a 4 year old son as well. The house is near the center of town, which is a lot different than now, when I live out in the country. The family wanted a good role model for the girls. Even though young kids aren’t my strongpoint, I am hoping the girls can help me progress with my Spanish. This should be fun! I expect there will be a lot more TV and music in the house.
The afternoon brought one of the most interesting sessions we have had. Also, one of the scariest. The PCMO and Juan Carlos presented Sexual Assault and Rape Response. We watched a video from three previous PCV who were sexually assaulted while serving and learned what services the PC offers, including a wide support of counseling and health services. There are not a lot of things I am afraid of, but having someone violate your personal space and personal rights is frightening to me. Especially in a country where women have such few rights anyway and the police are not trained properly to handle such situations. It is true that most of situations reported involved alcohol and often time’s people being assaulted by someone they knew very well; however, 3 out of the 9 cases in Latin America in 2008 were in Honduras. Finally, PST ended with us receiving our Banco Atlantico ATM cards and check books. For most of the PST sessions, they are presented in English, but when it really mattered (with money and financial matters), the PC decided to have it in Spanish! I think I’m a pretty smart person and most online banking websites, ATM cards are pretty similar, but when you are explaining how our checking account is going to work, be debited/credited for the next 27 months, I suggest PC have the session in English next time! Why, you ask? Because the bank had my email wrong and when I went to log into my account today the username was incorrect. So, now I have no way to access my account online until I see the PC banking lady again. It is a good thing I have walk around money, which is $3 a day. What can you buy with $3 a day? I have made a list:
Walk Around Money Put to Good Use:
21 Mangos
29 slices of watermelon
20 tortillas
4 liters of Pepsi
6.5 cones of ice cream
½ a jar of peanut butter
11 little cartons of orange juice
2 Imperial beers
2.5 hours of Internet
3 bracelets from the bus vendor
2 postcard stamps to the USA
1.5 loaves of banana bread from the panaderia
11 packets of chocolate cookies
29 chocolate bananas
Saturday, July 17, 2010
This morning, I had great plans of hiking El Tigre (finally!) with some other aspirantes (trainees), but that fell through when I woke up with swollen glands and a stuffy nose. After doing half of my laundry last night, only to have it fall victim to last night’s rain storm, I decided to complete the rest this morning and hope for sunshine to dry it all out. After 2.5 hours of scrubbing in the pila, I had used all the clothespins and taken up all the clothesline with my pants and shirts. I decided today that the only good thing about having to wash your clothes by hand is that for once the items that read “Wash by Hand” are actually getting that type of treatment, instead of being thrown in the washer on “Delicate.” It was probably, actually, a BRILLIANT idea for me to bring some of my nice VS undies down here. They haven’t seen this much handwashing love ever.
So, after using all the pila water, my host mom told me to go take a nap and set out a huge carton of OJ for me. After it thawed I drank the entire carton. I attempted to pay her for it but she wouldn’t let me and then told me that when she is sick it’s the only thing that makes her feel better. Claro. If I could go back and find the dermatologist, I would tell him that it was only a matter of hours before his sneeze transferred to me and that is why you sneeze into your elbow. Hasn’t he heard of swine flu? When I finally felt better, I packed up all my things and put them into my backpack so I can move to my new family tomorrow. I will miss Rosa and Gustavo so much. They are awesome and I can’t wait to see them in 7 weeks when I come back for swearing in. Tonight, when I was feeling better, Gustavo told me about his days when he was in a band. He and Rosa had just gotten married and he went around Honduras singing with his brothers. I knew he liked to sing, b/c he’s always doing it, but I really enjoyed him sharing his pics with me. Then, Rosa and I browsed the Internet together…she really wanted to see pictures of Israel. They are the cutest retired couple, just living the life in Honduras.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
After packing as much as I could into three bags, I left one bag full of stuff at my host family’s house and bid farewell to Los Planes. The carry-on, rolly wheels didn’t find a comfy home on the muddy, unpaved road, but after twenty minutes, I had managed to haul my butt down to the main highway where the PC bus was supposed to meet us at 1:30. After sitting on the side of the road for 50 minutes, the bus finally decided to show up around the same time as the rain, only to tell us that he decided to take the opposite route to us. On the “special” long, yellow, school bus that the PC chartered for us to share with the youth development group up to our FBT, we were supposed to fit 40 PCT and all our luggage. One hour, and almost 100 bags later, the bus had a close call with a mud trap, but we were on our way through the mountains to Catarranas. Muni D is doing our FBT there and the YD team is heading about an hour further north. As the bus winded through the mountains, my nose continued to be stuffy and I couldn’t wait to get some relief from the PCMO (who I had finally called about an hour before leaving Los Planes). On the bus there were about 5 of us all suffering from the same nasal fate. Finally, after an hour of rain, close bus turns, and luggage flying, we pulled into a small pulperia and were told that we had arrived in Catarranas. Some people’s host families had come to meet them (and carry their luggage), but not mine. This meant I was left following Laura (the local PCV stationed in Catarranas) as she walked us through town to locate our houses. I’ll give you the cliff note directions in English: 2 blocks south of the town hall, then take a right hand turn at the salmon colored house and it is by the two plants. Okaaaaayyy….. So, once I got my wheely luggage past the road that is being re-cobbled and all the other haphazourds, I found my way to the town hall and a salmon house, then saw some kids playing in the street, which I could only assume was my new 4 year old host brother. Bingo! Then, someone magically appeared to take my bag and since he didn’t appear to run off with it right away, I followed him into a house where the lady wouldn’t let me enter until I told her my name. (Even though I was the only gringo on the street, and carrying two backpacks, so if I was there to rob her, I wasn’t being too inconspicuous). After passing her approval, she attempts to give me a hug, even though I am still carrying 80 pounds worth of crap on my bag and I smile while asking “Que cuarto es mi?” Once I am led to my room, I barely have time to drop my pack before I am ushered into the kitchen and offered water and coffee (it is 95 degrees outside, no thanks). There sits my host mom’s sister in the kitchen visiting from Teguz. I no sooner have one sip of water before she asks me who I am and what I am doing in the house (did my host mom not tell her a gringa was showing up today?) Anywho, I explain the Cuerpo de Paz situation and the very next question is “Where is your boyfriend/husband” followed by a very long statement that goes something like this “Well, don’t you worry. There are lots of nice men in Honduras. They make very good husbands and they like women like you. You will find one in two years and take him back to America.” So, yeah….you can only imagine my reaction to that. Because, the Cuerpo de Paz didn’t send me down here to fine a nice man and also what is a “woman like you?” And, lastly, I have enough trouble trying to get myself back to America. This lady continues badgering me like the Honduras FBI until finally I excuse myself and take a moment in my room. I decide now is a good time to give my host mom her welcoming gift of my homemade calendar (it is 12 months, with all the best places in the USA I have been, written in Spanish, with all the Honduran holidays on it). She starts crying when she opens it and before I can even blink there are 25 people in the living room looking at it. Apparently these are all cousins, and two other sons, and I am told everyone’s name at once, but without nametags I nickname them all Maria and Jose. Within minutes my host mom is up and taking the cross off the wall, then replacing it with my calendar…so now it is the first thing anyone sees when you walk in the house and even her sister was impressed (haha). Then, she started talking about Las Vegas and casinos and the North Carolina mountains; those are her two favorite places in the calendar. She also asked me what kind of fish was in the Hawaii picture, but I had no idea except that it was yellow and blue and you can’t eat it. 
Right outside the front door there was a guy with a large stick and I wondered out to see what was going on. There were like 15 other people (who apparently are all in my family, but live in Teguz during the week) watching this guy bang the stick out of the tree and then all of the sudden avocadoes started flying down. He handed them to my host mom and she winked at me while saying “they’ll be ready tomorrow.” Wow, I had never seen THAT before. As I walked back in the house there was a large gun on the side table. Not sure if it was real or not, I took a pic anyway. There were a lot of people at the house right now…one can’t be sure. As I continue unpacking I tell my host mom that the mosquito net needs to go up, especially since I am in a high area of dengue, and she points to the screen on the window and tells me that no dengue is getting through there. I tell her that we are going to make sure and put the net up anyway. About two hours later she decides to go with me and sends my host brother in and soon he is on two chairs, circus style, using dental floss to hang it up. Once again, she starts touching all my stuff and before I know it I am showing her how to use my exercise bands and some yoga moves. I’m pretty sure I’ll have her in tip-top shape by the time I leave this town. As the night progresses my first meal is of Chop Suey, which the rest of the family tops with mounds of ketchup (gross!) and since my nose is clogged I put on a few drops of this hot chile sauce. Before I know it my mouth is on fire and snot is running out of my nose into the chop suey. Not exactly how I pictured my first meal in this town, but it will do. When I finally do decide to call it a night, it turns out I can’t, b/c my room light is connected to the outside light, so no one can see or use the pila unless my room light is on. That also means they can’t wash their face/brush their teeth/wash their clothes unless I have the light on. I have not yet decided how I feel about any of this.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, July 19-21, 2010
For our first mission we were split into groups and given a barrio around the pueblo to walk around and map out. I recruited my host sobrina to be our tour guide and by the time we were done we had found the biblioteca, alcadea, parque, one Internet café, Tigo store, policia, Iglesia, and about twenty pulperias. There are also three different ice cream shops in this town which worries me; I know I have a weakness, especially when it is 100 degrees outside. After all the groups reconvened, we put our maps together and discussed what we found…our group made sure to share where the chocolate bananas are sold. Everyone was pleased.
Another project this week was a FBT worksheet to fill out with my family and area counterparts that included all local contacts in case of emergency, draw a local map of the area, find out the local radio/TV stations, and locate a two-way radio in the area that can help locate you in case of emergency. Now, this might sound easy, but not in a town where I can’t even connect to the Internet. So, after recruiting my host brother to draw the map of the local area, and having my four year old host brother recite all the phone numbers he could remember, I set out to find the bomberos since they are the only people in town with a two-way radio station. (I think I am the only PC trainee who actually did this part of the project). Once I got there all the firemen were very helpful and gave me a thirty minute tour of the facility, which is no bigger than my parents living room, and they showed me all their fire engines (two), ambulance (one), and oxygen masks (five). They also did help me with my homework and passed along the two-way radio information, as well as all the emergency phone numbers I needed and made sure to find out where I live and promised to take me to Teguz in case of emergency. I feel well protected by the bomberos. I would also like to thank my host brother who helped me draw all the maps I needed; he is very helpful with my tarea.
So, since a lot has happened this week, I thought I would just make a list of some other “fun” snapshots that I wanted to share, but couldn’t write about in length:
-We didn’t have water for two days, which meant that I took a sponge bath and baby wipe bath two days in a row. This included after working out and 100 degree weather.
-When the water came back, and the pila filled up, I accidentally dropped my bar of soap in the pila. This meant I had to reach my arm all the way in the water; it also meant the new water we just received was now tarnished with my soap.
-If you want to know how many tortillas I can eat in one day, the answer is 9. I decided to stop there and have since cut back to 6. My mom does not understand this is still too many.
-I am living with a family of carnivores, and by carnivores I mean they eat meat such as bologna, fish, and chorizo (all FRIED, and in the words of my Honduran language facilitator “fried bologna is the poor Hondurans ham.”) I have been here four days and we have had it three.
-There are no coffee shops in town. A Red Bull cost L42, our daily pay is L58. A Coca-Cola is L12.
-My mom has obliged in giving me an extra cup of coffee in the morning (she does make the best coffee).
-Cantarannas means singing frogs, but I haven’t seen any yet.
-Earplugs do not drown out roosters. They crow at 1 am, 3 am, and 4 am.
-My entire house is blue and made of concrete.
-32 people have died/become sick from dengue in this town in July.
-Every time I come close to thinking I might want a child in my life, a small one shows up knocking on my door, asking me in Spanish to play with them.
-They sell bags of Coca-Cola here; when you buy a Coke at the pulperia, just ask for it in a bolsa, and it will be L3 less.
-I had to interview my neighbors for some homework, and they have a daughter that lives in Dallas. They liked all the pictures of my family wearing Texas gear.
-There is only one Internet café in town, so they charge a lot. My Internet modem doesn’t work in my house because it’s built like a prison, concrete walls through and through and a metal roof. The next closest Internet is an hour away by bus.
-The only way to get more minutes on your phone here is to go to the pulperias and have them call the Tigo people, punch in your number, then they get a code which they punch in, then your phone is credited. If you do it on a certain day then you get triple credit. If they do it wrong (or don’t know how to use your phone), you stand there for a long time. If the Tigo store is open, you can do this in five minutes.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
This morning I went for a long 45 minute run through the hills of Honduras. It was great to put on my running shoes and take off again; get out of my room and the cardio workouts I have become accustomed to. After long talks with my host family, and another PCV living in town, I decided it was safe enough to go run by myself. So, at 5:15 am, I took off up the big staircase in the middle of town and through the campo, past the main highway leading out of town and said hello to every guy carrying a machete into the fields. They were all really nice and seemed a little shocked that a girl was actually out running. Whatever, I was so happy and at that time of the day the weather felt great. I could see the water gliding through the river, the smoke drifting over the mountains, and the little ladies opening up their pulperias.
After my great run, I met up with my other PCT for our first charla. A charla is a word you should learn. It means meeting/presentation in Spanish. Today I had my first “official” one for Municipal Development; I say official b/c I like to count my Colgate, brushing of the teeth, as one as well. My group had the great pleasure of presenting to high school students, who are the same all across the world. In our group we had six students who spent most of their time ignoring us and texting on their phones. I would have probably done the same thing if four white girls, speaking mostly bad Spanish, were trying to get me to tell them what “I need most to graduate.” But, that was our assignment and we did the best we could with what we had. And by that, I mean a few trees for shade, some white paper, markers, and two hours to put our Spanish speaking skills together. Let me tell you that I like to consider myself a good presenter, but attempting to do it in another language, after I forgot to bring half my notes, led me to tears and I was pretty much over the charla as soon as it started. Once it was over, the students received snacks, which only led me to believe more that they were nothing short of bribed into listening to us for an hour. After the presentation our Spanish facilitator gave us all separate reviews, I had mostly mid-grade marks…let’s hope things get better.
To top off the day, we had a session on “taboo topics” in Honduras. This included everything from abortion to sex, where we learned that the way most young boys learn about sex is by their dad taking them to a prostibulo (if you don’t know Spanish, use your imagination), when they are around 12 or 13 and wham! That’s how they learn. I am really grateful I don’t work in the health/youth education portion of PC; although, we will be having a sexual health information session soon, where we work with condoms and plantains. Don’t worry, pictures will be provided. During the taboo topic session, we were met by more dengue fumigation, and during my lunch hour I wasn’t able to enter my house since the house was also being “bombed” as my host sobrina called it. Dengue is on every channel and on everyone’s mind. I don’t walk anywhere without my mosquito repellent, I live in my mosquito net, and know the minister of health by first name. He’s more popular than the President, I think. My family has seven of the dengue health bags in the pila. We aren’t taking any chances here.
So, tonight, I told my family that I prefer the bologna/ham not fried. They seemed slightly confused by this and attempted to give me more beans in place of the grease. I tried to explain to them that plain ham was sufficient for me, that I prefer it plain and they looked at me like those people at McDonald’s who order the burger without the bun. Yep, those people. Then, they gave me four more tortillas.
This afternoon, I found two places to work in town. It’s really hard to study at my house because it’s full of teenagers and young kids. There’s always a TV, loud radio, or car going. Or, my host sobrina is singing, attempting to be the next American Idol. So, this afternoon I headed to the biblioteca where my Internet works b/c the walls aren’t as thick as my house and since they close at 5 pm, I headed to the church to study my Spanish book. I know it sounds weird, but it is the quietest place in town and the only people there during the day are at confession. So, I found a little quiet corner and studied my book. Maybe with God looking over my shoulder, Spanish will suddenly find its way into my soul.
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