Only in America

March 4, 2011

Only in America-

Eight months to the day I arrived in Honduras, I flew out, headed to the good ol’ USA, land of the free, home of the brave.  And, unlike Christina Aguillera, I did not forget that the rockets had red glare and the bombs bursted in air.  Nor did I forget that the airport had wine and Wifi waiting for me as I hopped and skipped right through customs, where the agent said “What have you been doing in Honduras for eight months?”  “Trying to survive!” I wanted to shout back, but I didn’t…instead I told him “I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer,” to which he took as an open-ended conversation to ask me all about my life in Honduras and invite me to become a member of the US Customs team/Military/CIA when I returned from my “tour of duty.”  I could see the line behind me seething as they wanted to rush the gate, so I politely got the hell out of there before my bags were taken to secondary.

After downing the two biggest glasses of real California wine I could find at the Houston airport, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had been upgraded to first class, courtesy of all the miles I’ve been hoarding down in Orocuina.  This would have been even nicer if I wasn’t dressed like a homeless person, in my finest PC attire, with all the other first class passengers staring at me.  More wine soon followed and I kicked back, remembering what life used to be like…

After landing in RDU I found that the seasons actually do change in America and I was not at all prepared.  With my tank top and Chaco’s, I prayed that the Budget shuttle would soon show up and after it did, I was granted another upgrade to a convertible Mustang (what am I supposed to do with that in the dead of winter?).  Anyway, I took off riding through highways and byways listening to the “latest” music, according to the radio and enjoying the fact that I wasn’t sharing a bus seat with three people, waiting to be robbed.

Sad, but this is the only pic I took of myself while home!

As the week progressed, I found it very easy to slip back into my old routine of American lifestyle.  I do live near a big city in Honduras and we have things like Wendy’s, Pizza Hut, Espresso Americana, even if I do have to take a 30-min bus to get there.  Besides the fact that I had absolutely no clothes to wear that weren’t ripped or torn from the pila, and that I had absolutely no money to spend since I make $7/day in Honduras, America was exactly where I left it.  Note, that all the phones and computers had gotten smaller since I left.  As I sat in the Houston airport getting smashed on the best wine I’ve had in eight months, I pulled out my laptop, only to see that everyone else’s was two sizes smaller.  Since when did good things start coming in small packages?  I’m just saying…  The other thing I noticed IMMEDIATELY was that everyone in the USA looks different.  I don’t care if they call all American’s gringo down here, we DO NOT all look alike.  The very first thing I noticed after walking off the plane was that NOT EVERYONE IS WHITE.  In fact, most people in the USA are not white!!!  They are all kinds of different colors, with different color hair, tall/short, big/little, different types of clothes, etc.  Where I live in Honduras, everyone looks the same.  Everyone has dark black hair, for men it is usually cut short and for women it is usually long and straight.  The majority of people have dark brown skin and are short (most shorter than me).  A few are overweight, but very few.  I definitely stick out in town, okay?  And there are NO inter-racial couples walking around here, I haven’t even seen them in Tegucigalpa.  So, when I was walking through the Houston airport and saw an inter-racial couple and the guy was white with red hair, I had to do a double take.  Sorry.

My friends are awesome.  I made them eat sushi almost everyday I was home.  After looking through my photos, my mom said it’s no wonder.  Then she sent me home with a suitcase full of food.  Hello!  I subsist on beans, eggs and tortillas here.  So, many thanks to the manager at Sono in Raleigh for comping us all the appetizers and drinks; as Arnold says “I’ll be back.”  And, to the two tables of six who wouldn’t get up, “Thanks to you, too!”  I appreciated the free meal I ended up getting, courtesy of you sitting there for two hours.  Those raspberry martinis were delicious; we don’t even have raspberries in Orocuina.  Trust me, I can never get enough sushi, and the people in Honduras think I’m crazy to eat raw fish.  If it’s not fried, it’s not food. 

It was really, really, really, great to go home.  Even though I didn’t get to see everybody, I really needed a break away.  The last few months have been really stressful, with my shoulder pain and the safety and security at a new all time high here in Honduras.  I know some of you have seen reports about it, and yes, there have been some assaults against PCVs.  Several of my friends were sexually assaulted and it threw me for a loop.  Before going home, I had all kinds of thoughts about what to do with my service, and the truth is everyday is a test.  I am constantly trying to figure out what to do with my life, each day I am here.  One day I’ll know exactly what my plan is, and the next day is cloudier than the one before.  But, I am so fortunate to have an awesome support group and it was great to hug and hangout with everyone (and my parents!).  I also got to present to my mom’s kindergarten class, who I have the World Wise School Program with.  They really liked all the pictures of Honduras I showed them, especially the one of the “store” in my town with the dirtbike in front of it (which I had never even noticed before).  Leave it up to a five-year-old to teach me about my own town!

Until next time….