Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Riding Through Honduras
Getting around Honduras is no easy task. It takes a lot of planning, wishing and
hoping. Hoping that the bus shows up on
time, wishing that it got you there faster/cleaner/less crowded, and planning
all the hours that the busses connect.
You miss one bus, or it leaves late/breaks down, etc and you are stuck
in some small rural area until the very next day. The majority of Hondurans (and Peace Corps
Volunteers) find themselves fighting for seats everyday among old American
schoolbuses, commonly known as “Chicken Buses” usually paying anywhere from L15
to L80 depending on where and how far you are going. A usual trip for me from Orocuina to
Choluteca cost L15 and takes anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour; the bus has
no “bus stops” per say, but just lets people off wherever they want. This means that it can stop every 15 feet or
so whenever people request it. If there
is a bus stop, you better be prepared to fight until you have a spot, for not
even old ladies or pregnant women are spared from the elbow pushing and
clawing. I have actually stood for three
hours before all the way from Teguz to Choluteca and still paid full price,
L82, had two kids throw up on me, and called it a day. So is the life of public transit in Honduras. (Note: My odds of being puked on by a child
are far better than most people. It
almost always happens, small children despise me and aim to projectile vomit on
me as though they win a prize).
This past week I ventured up to the airport, which included
one chicken bus, one “direct” bus (an old Greyhound), and two “rapiditos”
(minivans full of people), for a total of 9 hours of exciting fun. For it is no easy task returning to the
USA. It is also not boring; often on the
chicken bus, you will be joined by preachers, bakers, but I have yet to see a
candlestick maker. I do often see
clowns. I don’t know why the Latin
American culture is so fascinated by clowns, or why they enjoy them on a bus,
but they do. As I ventured up to the
airport, I was joined by a clown (not the best one I’ve seen, but he was there
anyway) and I was able to video him without getting my camera stolen. I also got some film of all the vendors who
come on the bus selling everything from tacos to Coca-Cola to ice cream during
a five minute us stop. I hope you enjoy,
although I don’t think this will be on a Honduras turismo website anytime soon.
p.s. I only filmed two minutes of the clown for fear of the
camera being stolen, but if you had kept watching, you would have seen him
stick a nail up his nose to prove he could do it. Everyone on the bus rejoiced in humor!
March 29, 2011
My Honduran Date
After being in Honduras nine months, I was finally persuaded
to go on a date with a local by my friend Wilmer. I have not been too excited to jump into the
dating culture here because of the extreme machismo factor, their complete love
of the word “Baby” which often doubles for my name, and the fact that most of
the men lie about not having another wife/girlfriend on the side. But, after much persuading, my friend Wilmer
(who lived in the States for six years, so he’s always correcting people about
the American culture here), set me up with an engineer in town doing some
contract work. I agreed to one date and
we met up to “get to know each other.” A
few rules about dating in Honduras:
after you meet up for one date, you are usually girlfriend and
boyfriend. This is very difficult to
explain to locals, but I try anyway.
After meeting up with the engineer, I had a good time and the guy was
nice, college-educated (a very rare find around Orocuina) and I figured we
could go out again. When I saw him a
week later at the municipality he offered me a jalon out to an aldea, where we
were both working. On the way back I
thanked him and he said “Of course, anything for my novia.” Whoa……
Your novia? I don’t
think so; let’s stop for a moment and do some cross cultural interaction. In America you have to go on A LOT of dates
to be my novio. You have to have some
discussions about life/family/the future to be MY novio. I said “How about we meet up tonight?” After meeting up again that night I asked him
how many other novias he had and he said just me. Then I asked him how many esposas he had
(wives) and he said none. I asked him
how many kids he had and he said one. It
is SUPER, SUPER, SUPER rare in Honduras that you find a guy over the age of 20
that is not married, doesn’t have a girlfriend and no kids. So, excuse me if I thought he was lying. I decided that we could be friends on
Facebook and see where this goes.
Fast forward: ONE DAY
LATER He is now texting and calling me
more than 10 times a day. Slow
down. American women are independent and
don’t appreciate being hassled. He is
sending me texts calling me his “Amor.”
I barely know you, homie. We are
not even friends on FB yet. He’s sending
texts saying he loves me. I don’t think
so. Do you even know what that means?
Fast forward: ONE
MORE DAY LATER I am now friends on FB
with this guy where I discover he has three kids and a wife. Attention men of Honduras: You are lyers and cheaters. You will get caught, no matter what the hell
you try to tell American women. We are
very smart and you can not be a “novio” to all of us. We don’t let you treat us like crap, lie to
us, call us “Hey Baby” or anything else.
I know that there are a few good Honduran men out there, but
unfortunately your other “amigos” are outweighing your qualities.
Thanks, anyway, Wilmer, but I’ll continue to be soltera for
my remaining Peace Corps service. I
will also be getting a new phone number.
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