Leaving Honduras

Wednesday was my last full day in La Ceiba, and, coincidentally, Andy's day off. Since I wanted to see some water before I left, we took a mini-trip to the ocean with Josh and the McCanns (Andy's teammates). We drove about 45 minutes outside of La Ceiba to a hotel called The Canadian, where the beach was clean and completely unoccupied, two pools were available for the little ones (or those who didn't like the ocean), fresh fish and yummy beverages were all served poolside, and admission was $1 for the whole day. We're not totally sure how this place stays in business, but it was pretty incredible. (Only check out photos below if you're not too prone to jealousy!) ;)

(In case you looked this far, and are now bitterly jealous, let me alleviate it somewhat by saying that I have the most awkward sunburn all over my body. Apparently, I do not know how to apply sunscreen evenly, so I just have random red blotches everywhere. Feel better? I hope so!)

The rest of the day Wednesday was spent running errands around La Ceiba with Andy, which was great just to get some time alone with him to talk about how things are going. I am constantly so thankful that both of my brothers are now the age where we can really be friends, and I admire them both immensely. Andy was a phenomenal host the entire time I was there -- translating for me, cooking for me, willingly embarassing himself to buy me 3 bottles of Diet Coke (I really did drink them all), cramming in as many different experiences as he could at the expense of his own rest time, sharing his excitement about the different ministries in La Ceiba with me. It was one of the most wonderful vacations I've ever had.

And now I am home safely in Boston! :) I'm not going to recount my travels in great detail; suffice it to say, I puked twice before I was an hour outside of La Ceiba; I got "adopted" by a woman at the airport (it wasn't completely random, but very close) who introduced me to all of the security guards as her American friend and had them change our airplane seats so we could sit together (but she did translate for me!); and completely convinced myself that my flight from New York to Boston was about to land in the water several times (I've been watching too much news coverage). The end result is I am home and extremely grateful to have made it safely, even though I already miss Andy (not to mention the warmth!)

I do not, however, miss toilets that do not flush toilet paper. Hooray for American plumbing! It's good to be home.

Tuesday: Med Clinic and ESL in Armenia Bonito

Today was the second day I have spent in Armenia Bonito, the village community outside of La Ceiba where Andy's team works.  Yesterday was kid's club (see previous post); today was a diabetes clinic and then ESL classes in an orphanage and then back at the Centro Comunidad.  It was beautiful to see the same faces over and over yesterday and today and recognize that this team has become a regular and trusted part of this little community and that they are truly being the hands and feet of Jesus in a place where there is a great deal of poverty and suffering.  It would be easy to walk into Armenia Bonito and only see the brokenness, but today, in these faces, I saw the hope.   

Monday Afternoon: Kids Club in Pictures

Monday Morning: The Frustrations of Language

I have not yet shared a lot about the house Andy lives in, but it is necessary background to understand my day today. Andy and Josh are staying in a house that belongs to a missionary family who had to leave and return to the States for a few months. The house is beautiful, and while it is a very appropriate size for a large family, it is a little extravagant as a "bachelor pad." I keep teasing Andy that this house may be larger than any house I will ever live in -- and it's his first house out of high school. For perspective, here's Andy posing in front of the house (it's hard to see him, because I had to try to get the whole house in the photo -- again, proving my point).

One of the prerequisities for Andy and Josh living in the house was that they had to keep the Honduran housekeeper, Nancy, on while they are living here. The family who normally lives in the house has a daughter with special needs, and as a result they need full-time assistance. They didn't want to lose Nancy while they were gone, and so the family agreed to pay her to continue cleaning the house while they were gone; Andy and Josh didn't have to pay anything, they just had to allow her to continue doing this. (Naturally, it was incredibly difficult to convince two boys straight out of high school to allow someone to clean for them on a regular basis, for free. They've handled the inconvenience very graciously.) Nancy appears to be a saint and not only cleans for the boys but occasionally cooks for them and does their laundry; part of me wants to thank her, and part of me wants to hit them for allowing her to spoil them so much! College, I am afraid, will come as a rude surprise.

This morning, Andy had a team meeting to attend and then some errands to run to prepare for work for the day. I stayed home to sleep in and get some schoolwork done that needs to be emailed off before I leave. Andy had told me he would leave coffee on for me and that I could root around for breakfast whenever I got up. I woke up late and was taking my sweet time getting ready upstairs when suddenly I heard a noise downstairs. I realized nervously that I had forgotten about Nancy. Sure enough, a minute later there is a knock on my door, and this incredibly sweet woman is staring at me a little bewildered. I tried (in my very broken Spanish) to explain that I was not an intruder, and thankfully she understood. Our conversation couldn't get very far, though, so after introducing myself I just stood there awkwardly until she said something that (I assume) means, "Nice to meet you," and then I was able to repeat it back to her. (I really, really hope it meant "Nice to meet you" and not, "I'm surprised to see you" or something even more awkward.)

After this interaction, Nancy went downstairs to clean the kitchen. Uh oh, again. I could hear my coffee being poured down the drain and knew I should probably run in there quickly, but my insecurity and feelings of awkwardness go the better of me, so instead I retired to the living room to begin my work -- hungry and decaffeinated, therefore pouty. I tried to focus on my work, but my hunger pangs were causing irrational thoughts to stir around in my head: "What if Nancy stays all day? What if I never get to eat? What if I barge in there and offend her by just rooting through the kitchen while she's working, and she quits?" My roommate was online and I gchatted her to ask what I should do; she very calmly suggested that it was probably not as big a deal as I was imagining, and that I look up phrases online to help me out. Brilliant! So I googled, "Can I make some food, please?" and, armed with this one extra phrase to add to the 2 other ones I know, I gingerly made my way into the kitchen to try to claim some breakfast (which, by now, was approaching lunch). "Puedo hacer comida?" I asked. Nancy looked confused. Uh oh. She responded by saying yes, but then while I was grabbing a plate, proceeded to ask me a question. I think it was, "Do you know how to cook?" so I just nodded and responded, "Si," but she looked confused, so I think that whatever question she asked required more than a "yes" or "no" answer. Flustered and embarrassed, I began rooting through the kitchen, but I could tell Nancy was watching and would soon discover that I had no idea what I was doing, and I was afraid of more conversation. Thus, plate and spoon in hand, I grabbed the only food I could see on the counter -- a banana -- and retreated back into the living room, with a smile and "Gracias" shouted over my shoulder to hide my blushing. Only when I reached the living room did it occur to me that Nancy was probably thinking, "Why in the world does she need a spoon and a plate to eat a banana? And why did she ask if she could cook when that's all she was going to do?"

30 minutes later, the banana was just not doing it for me; I needed something more substantial, plus I now felt the need to put that plate and spoon to better use. I heard Nancy going upstairs and so made a mad dash into the kitchen. While my original intent this morning had been to make myself something new and exciting, I now knew that I had only limited time and so grabbed all of the leftovers from the dinner we made last night. (Sorry, Andy; no more for you.) Chicken in the morning is a bit awkward, but no more awkward than my other interactions with Nancy, so I figured it was an acceptable compromise. I made my way with my food and the dog, Jack, outside; sure enough, two minutes later Nancy was out on the patio with her mop. She smiled and asked how I was doing. I responded, "Muy bien!" (since I actually don't know how to say I'm anything other than, "Very good!" Thankfully, it was mostly true in this instance, and I wouldn't have admitted to her that I was feeling "mildly uncomforable" even if I knew the language.) I then began stuttering ridiculously while I tried to communicate, "Am I in your way?" (Keep in mind, I really only know about 3 phrases, and no verbs, so I'm not sure what possessed me to believe that I could say this.) She finally smiled and told me to say it in English. She immediately responded that I was fine, she was happy to have me here, and started explaining to me that her husband speaks English so she can understand. (I was pretty impressed with myself for understanding this interaction.) I retired to the living room, content, and finished my chicken and rice with much more peace of mind.

That is, until Andy just arrived home, and informed me that Nancy actually speaks pretty good English, and might have been messing with me. (??!!) Hopefully, I at least increased the humor in her day. I am now feeling very humbled and about to head out to Armenia Bonito with Andy for a much longer period of much of the same (although, at least this time, I will have translators with me!) Want to feel humbled? Try moving somewhere where you cannot speak the language. Amazing what it does for your pride.

Sunday: The Day of Food

Ok, so Sunday is really the day of rest, but food and rest usually go well together for me, as they did today.  :)  

Our day started off with an amazing pancake breakfast, courtesy of the McCanns, another family on Andy's team.  Normally, they have pancake breakfast every Saturday, but they saved it for Sunday so I could participate -- thanks guys!  (As a side note, they are now the third family I've met that has a pancake breakfast tradition on weekends.  My roommates and I did it a couple of weeks ago, and it was wonderful.  I've decided I'm pretty much a fan of any family traditions that revolve around food and plan to implement a lot of them some day.)  We hung out at their house and I made fast friends with their 2-year-old Lucy, who announced five minutes after meeting me that I was her big sister.  Who knew?  

After pancakes, we went to church.  (For those of you who think I'm about to break with the theme of the day, don't worry -- there was food at church, too.)  Andy's team has been doing a little "church hopping" since they spend most Sundays out in Armenia Bonito, the community they serve in, but they also are looking for a church to attend in the city of La Ceiba.  As a result, we attended a new church this Sunday, and were incredibly warmly welcomed.  (I got hugged and kissed about 15 times on my way into church; I was also holding Lucy, which meant a lot of extra attention but unfortunately also a lot of questions in Spanish that I could not answer.  I could tell they were asking if Lucy was my daughter, so I just started shaking my head vigorously and saying no, which they probably thought was a little abrupt.  This whole "not knowing the language" thing is kind of tough!)  The pastor was especially excited to have "our friends from the northern country" and proceeded to make us feel welcome by randomly shifting into English throughout his sermon -- often in mid-sentence, and often shifting back to Spanish mid-thought.  Afterwards, everyone wanted to talk to us (mostly to hold Lucy and her little sister Elly) so, once again, I got to practice my one Spanish phrase:  "No hablo espanol.  Puedo comprender, pero no puedo hablar."  I'm pretty proud of it, actually, but it is a conversation ender.  Thankfully, to break up the awkwardness while we were conversing, many church members were bringing us plates full of food -- some fried thing stuffed with cheese, crackers, and soda.  As soon as you finished one plate they brought you another, so by the end it was enough to call "lunch."

Then again, this is the day of food, so of course we did not call this lunch -- we went out for lunch!  Since Josh (Andy's friend and housemate) had use of the truck, we ended up driving down towards the ocean to a restaurant that Josh, Jamie (their other friend from Boston), and Andy had all been to before that they said had good "Ceiba food" (by which they meant local food).  We got yummy shish kebabs with rice, beans, tortillas, and salad.  Amazing, but way too much food -- we all went home in a delicious food coma!  I wish I had gotten a picture of the ocean but I forgot my camera; we will hopefully be going back Wednesday.

Once back at home, Andy and I rested for awhile (read:  watched more of The Office) and then decided to go for an adventure.  Of course, this adventure, again, involved food.  On my flight in I noticed a large number of crop fields, and I asked Andy what they were.  He explained that they were probably pineapple since there's a huge Dole factory in La Ceiba, so ever since then I've fixated on the idea that we were going to buy fresh pineapple.  Andy tried to explain to me that the Dole factory exports all the best pineapples, but I was having none of it, so off we treked to a fruit stand a few blocks away from his house.  

Upon arriving, Andy and I realized that neither of us really had any idea how to select a pineapple, so we started picking them up and smelling them.  The owner of the stand immediately came over and warned us "not to squish them" (they're hard on the outside, just in case anyone else was confused, because I was).  My polite but naive brother then decided to share with her, "We don't know how to select a pineapple.  How do you know which ones are good?"  Her response:  "Oh, all of my produce here is good.  Every single one.  They're all good."  Interestingly, the same was true of the mangoes and the plantains.  Amazing how we stumbled on the best fruit stand in the city, and on our first try!  (Andy would like me to note, for the record, that this was his first time at the fruit stand.)  Nevertheless, we did select a pineapple that actually looks pretty good, although it still needs to ripen a little bit, and I happily walked the rest of the way home through a sudden rainstorm satisfied with my achievement.  Here is a picture of me, victorious but wet, back in Andy's kitchen with my pineapple prize: 

 

After that adventure we decided to cook dinner, but before dinner must always come dessert.  (As my mom taught us when we were very young, you never know when Jesus will come back, so it's always a good idea to eat dessert first.  I'm not totally sure about the theology behind that statement, but I definitely think it proves that, nutritionally, my mom had her priorities straight.)  When I asked Andy what he wanted me to bring from the States, he responded, without hesitation, "chocolate chips."  I was woried about getting them here, so I froze them beforehand and, surprisingly, both bags arrived in tact.  In celebration, we made chocolate chip cookies.  The process was a little rough (I wanted to eat all of the batter, as the absolutely terrifying picture proves), but Andy did a great job holding the operation together and the end result, I have to say, was delicious. 

After cookies were in the oven, we made dinner.  I believe that I have existed for a purpose today, in that I informed both Josh and Andy that boiling vegetables was not the way to go.  I also introduced them to a steamer, which, amazingly, they already had.  (They had been wondering why their colandar had such a strange shape.)  We did not yet figure out how to bread chicken well (it just tasted like chicken and dry crackers) so if anyone knows the secret, shoot me an email!  After dinner, Andy was cleaning up and I heard a shout from the next room.  Josh and I ran in to discover this sight:

Apparently, Andy dropped the flour, which somehow exploded absolutely everywhere (including up his nose?!)  After cleaning up. we headed with our cookies back to the McCanns to watch -- you guessed it -- The Office.  Andy was the one who got me hooked on this show in the first place, so I really do believe this is a good use of my time with him :) and it was fun to hang out with his teammates.  

And now, the food is over and it is time for bed.  I was a little worried about sleeping in Honduras (I do not deal well with heat) but I had one of the best nights of sleep I've had in weeks!  A cool evening breeze through the windows, a fan circulating it around the room, birds chirping outsided of my window in the morning -- lovely.  :)  Hasta manana!   

Arriving in Honduras!

So normally my blog is not so much a regular account of my daily activities as it is a forum for my random musings.  Last year, on my trip to London, I switched up this format and wrote a daily blog entry about all of my activities for the past 24 hours.  I have no idea if this is any more or less boring to anyone who reads this than my normal blog entries, but I found it enjoyable for myself to have a detailed record of that whole trip.  And since this blog is mostly for me to process, I'm going to try this "daily update" formula again for my trip to Honduras--starting today!

"Today" has actually been the past 36 hours, which are all bleeding together into one long traveling day.  I flew into New York City Friday night, but after a long week of work, I hadn't really given myself a lot of time to think about the details of this trip.  And so I found myself standing in the middle of the Jet Blue terminal, trying to figure out how to make my way to the international flights terminal, and (for some bizarre reason -- I think I felt foolish) unwilling to ask for help.  This resulted in me taking the moving sidewalk back and forth about 3 times with all of my luggage before I finally figured out that I just needed to go a little farther than I'd gone the other 3 times and I found the way to Terminal 4.  I then had to wait until 2 AM for my flight to board and spent most of the time grading papers (to try and stay awake--middle school writing is actually pretty amusing) and staying as far as I could away from the middle school boys' field trip group that was also about to board my plane.  (My prayer went something like this:  Dear Lord, I already work with middle schoolers all the time.  This is my vacation.  Please, don't make me sit with them!)  FINALLY boarded the plane, and immediately fell asleep and slept the whole way (incredible for me) until we arrived in San Pedro Sula.  

My brother had agreed to fly in and meet me in San Pedro Sula and take the bus back with me to La Ceiba.  (For timing reasons, it didn't work for me to fly to La Ceiba.)  I was praying that he would arrive before me because I only know about 3 phrases in Spanish, and my "Spanish for Dummies" booklet had taught me how to say "I need help" but not to explain what specific help I needed.  (It did, however, teach me how to say, "I can't breathe."  Pretty unhelpful, given that I doubt I'd be able to speak--much less speak in Spanish--if I couldn't breathe.)  Thankfully, I stepped out of customs and immediately saw a tall skinny blond gringo waiting to meet me!   This was our "Sarah survived the flight" picture: 

After hugs, Andy got me a delicious coffee drink to wake me up (apparently "iced coffee" here is similar to a Dunkin Donuts Coffee Coolata -- sweet, icy, caffeinated goodness!) and some breakfast.  Then we waited in a long line to buy the bus tickets and waited even longer to board the bus, reminding me that my American sense of efficiency is not necessarily valued here.  So we read American magazines, told stories, changed into cooler clothes, and practiced my extremely limited Spanish with a sweet older woman who told me I look like I'm 18.  Here's us, a little more awake, waiting on the curb for the bus (note the short sleeves!!!):

The bus ride was actually quite enjoyable, although it was almost as long as my flight to Honduras because of traffic.  We were on an air conditioned luxury bus that provided food and a movie (Nancy Drew, of all things) and I really enjoyed getting to look out the window as we drove between the two cities.  I was struck, as we were driving through the countryside, by how much of "life" was lived visibly, outdoors:  I saw people hanging up laundry, selling produce, walking to/from school, playing in the river, talking with neighbors, cooking dinner.  It felt almost voyeuristic to be watching this through a bus window, but it also reminded me a lot of my trips to Romanian villages:  life is lived outdoors, in view of the community.  I admire it in a lot of ways, but I also don't want to glamorize it.  Some of this is cultural, and some of it is also tied to poverty -- less opportunity to put up walls, even if you want them.  I mentioned it to Andy and contrasted what I saw with what I would see driving through any neighborhood in the US -- yards, maybe a few kids playing outside or someone walking their dog, but not nearly this much activity.  He drew an even starker contrast between what we were seeing and the wealthier neighborhoods in the city, where not only is life more private, but everyone actually has a high wall around their house, usually with a padlocked gate and barbed wire or spikes at the top to prevent theft.   See, for example, this random shot from outside the car window once we were in the city:  

The only really unenjoyable part of the bus ride was the couple in front of us, who spent the entire 3.5 hours making out.  (Side note:  I'm ok with mild PDA in public, especially since it was Valentine's Day, but when you are leaning your seat back into me so that you can move on top of one another -- not ok.)  Once we arrived in La Ceiba and caught a cab back to Andy's house (which we had to share with someone else -- you guessed it, the make-out couple) we napped and bummed around for the rest of the day.  We took a quick walk around Andy's neighborhood and got honked at constantly.  (Apparently because we're "gringos," or white people -- Andy says cabs always honk at gringos because they expect you to want a ride, and other cars just honk because they can.)  Andy then took me to get baleadas for dinner -- tortillas stuffed with eggs, cheese, refried beans, and then pretty much anything else you want -- delicioso!  I don't think I've actually ever had homemade tortillas before, but I am now ruined forever; they are so much better than the dry things you buy at the grocery store.  I wanted to take a picture but Andy didn't want me to look like a tourist, so I resisted the urge.  

The night ended with a 2-hour effort to find The Office on streaming TV that will still download in Honduras (apparently NBC.com charges you), which we finally discovered and thoroughly enjoyed the misadventures of Michael Scott.  As I'm writing this, it is actually now Sunday afternoon, but because this post has become so long I'll save writing about today for later this evening or tomorrow.  Hasta luego!  (Look at me learning Spanish!)  ;)  

February in Honduras

On Friday, I am jetting out of this freezing cold wasteland called my home (just kidding, I love it, but it is SO FREAKING COLD) and going here:


"Here," in case you didn't know (because I wouldn't have, unfortunately -- I blame the fact that my 8th grade geography teacher had to take maternity leave and we were left to browse the internet for 4 months, but that's another story) is Honduras. I am headed to La Ceiba, which is on the northern coast. My brother Andy is working with Mission to the World down there on a church planting/mercy ministry team that is just starting up. I had been wanting to visit Andy since I found out he was going but didn't think I could because of the cost. Then (surprise!) my parents agreed to help pay for the travel costs as a joint Christmas present for both Andy and me. As a side note, I think he got the raw end of the deal: I get a trip to a tropical climate in the middle of February, a chance to travel to a continent I have never visited before, an incredible opportunity to become more educated about the language and culture of the area where most of my students are from and about world missions, a vacation away from the stresses of my life here, and he gets -- me. Thankfully, he's at least faking being grateful. :)

While I am excited, I am also ridiculously nervous. I do not like flying in general, but especially by myself, and especially to foreign countries. Last time I did that, I ended up losing my plane ticket during a layover and sobbing at a ticket counter in Vienna while the very mean Austrian man told me that I would have to pay the fee for a new ticket -- oh, and by the way, that's actually in Euros, and the exchange rate isn't in your favor. In that same encounter, I also nearly maxed out my credit card and had to IM a friend from an internet cafe to transfer money into my banking account (which is exactly the kind of thing they tell you not to do if you're traveling, and exactly the kind of message that's usually a scam if you're stateside -- thankfully, my friend recognized that I was the kind of person who could actually get myself into such a scrape). Needless to say, that soured me a little to the experience of foreign travel alone, so I need many prayers. (I'm also being a little more strategic this time -- Andy is picking me up in a bus when I land in Honduras, even though I could actually catch a connecting flight to his city. I told him -- no more layovers in airports where I don't speak the language!)

Meanwhile, I still have a full week ahead of me and need to get some rest now so I am fully awake to grade the mounds of papers greeting me on my desk tomorrow. Friday is coming quickly, but it still seems a long way off right now.