Not so bad after all... (Happy Halloween)

After reading our last post I realized that it sounded like we were having a hard time down here. Well, just to put things in perspective we are currently blogging in our bathing suits at the pool at the Maya, drinking Imperial (I got tired of Salva Vida, too malty) and eating nachos. The kids are swimming, life is good! We are adjusting to our lives down here.

Adjustment to a new life is not inherently easy, this past week marked our third month down here. We have started missing certain things that we do not have down here, certain people and Halloween parties (Thanks for the crazy videos and pictures Mark!). Even though we are missing our Sebastopol lives we are developing a strange familiarity with this new place. We are even learning the shortcuts that avoid the traffic! (tip: follow taxis whenever possible)

Tonight our maid Yuliza will be staying at the apartment with the kids while we go to a costume party... Yeah we are really having a hard time of it!

Happy Halloween everyone!

Day at the DMV, Honduran Style

How to get a driver's license in Honduras:

1. Go to Direccion Nacional de Transito at 7:30 am with Oswaldo, a representative from the American School (that part was key).

2. Pay 100 lempira ($5) for physical, which includes eye exam, blood pressure, listening to lungs and heart, questions about medical history, and weight.

3. Pay 50 lempira to have a passport-style picture taken.

4. Go to woman, who types up name, date of birth, home "address", names of our parents (why?) and nationality with an old fashioned typewriter. Take this paperwork to policia man at the next desk, where a 5 minute argument starts between Oswaldo and policia over whether or not we all need to get our fingers pricked to determine blood type. Policia man won the argument, so we walk back over to the room where we got our physicals and we each get a prick on the finger. Here, E gets a little woozy, but he pulls through and doesn't faint.

5. Go back to policia man with a little card that states our blood type. Why this is needed for the license, I have yet to find out. Policia man then scribbles and stamps all over the paperwork the woman in #4 just typed up. Policia tells me to go to "ventana cinco, ventana dos, banco, photo".


6. Go to ventanilla #5, give paperwork and California ID to man.

Note: By this time, the Direccion Nacional de Transito is getting crowded and the lines are getting really long. You know the frustration you usually feel going to the DVM? Well, imagine the DMV in Central America... and count your blessings.

7. Go to the bank window and pay 250 lempira (about $12.50), get a receipt for the payment and proceed to ventanilla #2.

8. After ventanilla #2, go to another line for another picture.

9. While waiting in line to take the next picture, watch a little futbol on the flatscreen tv.

10. At last window, give a stack of paperwork that I had collected from #1-9 to woman who takes another picture, this time, a digital photo. I also had to give my finger prints.

11. Wait again, in front of the tv with the futbol game on. Here, I met a very nice woman named Liliana and she's a homeopathic doctor who was trained in Germany. She offers us a ride to the school where Dempsey's futbol team was starting their game in 2 minutes. We take her up on the offer and she and her daughter take us to the school. I also got her card in case we need her services in the future.

12. A woman yells "Jenn-E-fer" and I have, in hand, my Licencia de Conducir. It has only 5 pieces of important information on it: issue date, blood type, gender, license number and my name (in that order). Why is my blood type on my license? I don't think I want to know...

If this sounds confusing and completely ineffecient, it was. Total time? Two hours. I'm sure that if Oswaldo wasn't with us, it would have taken 3 times as long.

We got to D's game just before half time. He was so excited to be there that he ran ahead of us and proceeded to run right onto the field, ready to play. We had to holler at him to get off the field. His team had their first loss of the season to the Tigers. It was a close game, 3-4.

Now after 4 games, their record is 3 wins, 1 loss.

Typical Saturday

Our day started with D's Eagle League futbol game. So far, his team is undefeated (they've only had two games). He's on the Jaguars and today they defeated the Lions 5-3.

Considering that he is learning to play futbol from a coach who only speaks Spanish, I'd say he's doing pretty well. The coach is really good about letting all kids get fair play time. At first, I was worried that D's skills would be far behind the other's who, I stereo-typically thought, had been playing as long as they could walk. This is only true for about half the players on the team, and the other half are only getting their first formal futbol training now, as 6, 7 or 8 year olds. His team consists of 1st and 2nd graders, all from his school. You should see some of these kids play. Amazing. The passes, headers, blocks and shots on goal make for great futbol, even though none of them weigh more than 55 pounds.

After lunch at home, we ventured out to Plaza Morazan (also known as Parque Central), in El Centro, just a short drive from our favorite swimming spot at the  Maya. It may be a short drive from our bourgeois oasis at the Maya, but it's certainly a different world. We joked that we were quite the spectacle as we walked down the pedestrian-only esplanade, where there were mostly catracachos out for a social, Saturday afternoon. But we didn't truly become a spectacle until our kids saw Seleccion jerseys. We bought them and they wanted to wear them immediately. In case you've been living under a rock, or not living in Honduras, Seleccion is the national team that recently qualified for the World Cup. And everyone, I mean everyone wears a jersey on game days. So, our family had to represent, and the kids got jerseys. And they wore them for the rest of the day. So now we were not only the only gringos in Plaza Morazan, but we had people scratching their heads, wondering why these gringitos were in the know about the national futbol team.

Of course, there are several churches around El Parque Central, and E snapped a photo of beautiful Iglesia los Dolores, a baroque-style cathedral just off the square. More impressive than the clay pot decorations and the heart with piercing dagger were all the pigeons above, below, on, around and over it. The photo does not give justice the multitude of pigeons flanking the cathedral. On the side, there were a dozen people selling warm tortillas. We bought a bagful and they were delicious. Huevos Rancheros tomorrow for breakfast.

There was also a maze of aisles in a covered market area where I took the picture of L on a chair near a stall selling plastic flowers. Just after this picture, we walked to an area where we could look down to a one lane road with sporadic traffic that lead to an underground road/tunnel that led to ??? and an open grate where we could watch brown, rushing water flow to who knows where. Me thinks it was raw sewage, but keeping my fingers crossed that it was just run-off rain water, but is hasn't rained recently...

One thing that really struck me as we walked around this older part of the city with it's somewhat charming neo-colonial architecture was what a shame that it's been so sullied by graffiti. No space is sacred... churches, private homes, walls, and businesses have all been subject to graffiti over the recent months, since Zelaya was ousted. I have two dreams for Honduras... one is that all the graffiti will be painted over and never vandalized again, and that all the streets will be given names and each home and business will be given an address.

Lastly, we ended up at Sabor Cubano, a Cuban restaurant. Mojitos, platos tipicos, and several hands Uno capped off our day.

Parque Nacional La Tigra

Just 22 kilometers from our front door lies Parque Nacional La Tigra. La Tigra is a cloud forest located at about 7500 feet above sea level. Didn't see any tigers, but lots of other great stuff. Big ferns and little ferns, air plants that will try and grow on just about anything, flowers (even purple morning glories - exactly like the ones that grow on the fence at Maureen's purple house), crystal clear river water cascading over rocks to create multilevel mini-waterfalls, mosquitos (we actually didn't see them, but later found evidence of their presence), many butterflies, birds and a crazy, hairy caterpillar. And E just figured out how to make a collage, so you get to see pictures of our adventure, collage style. However, there is a picture that he threw in that's the view from our balcony. Guess he got a little carried away.

Art Show

When we first arrived to Tegucigalpa, our first visit to the MultiPlaza left us with glazed eyes and the experience was a shock to the system. It's just like it sounds - a big mall. It's only a short drive from our house, and we go there about once a week for various sundries.

We went there today to go to Sanrita to get a celebratory "It's Friday!!" ice cream. The MultiPlaza had grown on me. It has a consumeristic familiarity that, although I try not to think of myself as a crazy consumer, is quite comforting. There is a Benetton, a Baskin Robbins, Radio Shack, internet cafe, a few high quality Honduran department stores, funny kiosks where you can buy candles, coffee, cell phone accessories, Honduran chotchkies, hot dog on a stick, etc. But today when we went there, I was struck by something else...

Each time we go to the MultiPlaza, there is different display in the center-most open-space in the mall. The first time we went, there were about a dozen new vehicles for show. Another time, it was people representing a cemetery and they were selling grave plots. Next time, it was cell phones. Next time, it was car stereos and speakers for sale, playing music that was WAY too loud.  I think if I went to the mall everyday, there would be a different display. But today was my favorite.

Before we could even see this open-space area, we could hear the music. It was live and it was good and it sounded like authentic Latin music. As we got closer, we saw three giant marimbas and about 10 older guys playing them; some guys with three or more mallets in their hands. And there was art! Hundreds of paintings by Honduran artists. It was beautiful. It was my favorite use of this funny mall space.

Honduras Celebrates!

Here is a photo taken from the local paper, El Heraldo. This was the scene here in Tegucigalpa today. You see, today is a National Holiday! A holiday that was created last night by the current president Roberto Micheletti to celebrate the victory of the National Futbol team over El Salvador, securing a seat in the World Cup. Last week there were photos just like this one but they were of protestors who were intent on disrupting the peaceful progress of this small nation. But today, todo cheque! (everything great). Unfortunately, even though it was a national holiday, we still had school.

Many students and teachers broke the dress code and wore their Honduras futbol jerseys. Reportedly even teachers were late to school; there were celebrations all over the city. The city had been planning a fireworks show for Christmas, well let's just say that if there were fireworks last night for that holiday in our not so distant furure, today they are gone...

This morning, as I reported for my 7:15 "before school recess duty", my assistant and I caught up on the previous night's events. We had watched and listened from our balcony as our colonia and the entire city partied until the wee hours of the morning. We retired at about 10 pm and slept soundly despite the noise. However, for the majority of Hondurenos, the night played out a little differently. My assistant, a 50-something woman, was doing shots of tequila because she figured school would be cancelled because of the declaration of a national holiday by Micheletti. However, the superintendent emailed/texted all staff at 9:15 pm to notify us that despite the fact that a majority of Hondurenos would have the day off on Thursday, we would have to be at work. So, my assistant had one more shot, just for good measure.

As she and I talked, a second grade boy ran up to us with the daily newspaper. He proudly showed us the front page, which showed a picture of a tear-streaked player, Pavon, hugging another teammate. This little boy beamed as he held onto a newspaper he might keep for the rest of his life. When the bell rang to line up, one of my students ran up to me with the Honduran flag draped over his shoulders, asking my if I seen the game last night. Then moments later, as the Honduran pledge was being said, one of my students said to me "Miss, I am so happy I could cry."

If a nation ever needed a pick-me-up, it was Honduras. And we got it last night. Since our arrival in July, this country has seen it's share of turmoil, frustration, curfews, and disruptions of every day life. But last night, we experienced and were a part of the kind of experience that we had hoped on finding - to be a part of a different group of people that gathered and celebrated something that is not familiar to us, yet very tangible. I imagine that our kids will always have a keen interest in futbol, not football. They will learn that an entire country - albeit small - can come together on a common thread and forget all the crap that comes with daily life. We will all know to appreciate the small things, like a 90 minute futbol game that can change the tenor of a nation.

Shake Down

Today we decided to take the short drive out of Tegucigalpa to the beautiful and tranquil town of Ojojona. Ojojona is a easy way to escape the hustle and bustle of the capital and we all had a great time. The first picture is of one of the main churches off the central square.

On our way out of town there was a security checkpoint... Of course none of us remembered to bring our passports. The police officer asks us to pull over and asks for our identification. I gave him my California drivers license, heck it was worth a try. He asked for my Honduran drivers license, I counter that we have only been in the country for a short time and that we have 3 months to get one. Oh yeah? He says... well where is your "Triangulo"??? He's got me... Que es un Triangulo? I ask. He makes a small triangle shape with his hands puts my drivers license in his pocket! He then explains to me that in order to get it back I have to go to some place in who knows what part of the city to get it back and pay some crazy fine... "Isn't there any other way that we could take care of this?" I ask him... Next, he asks/commands that I get out of the car, we go over to his little office by the side of the road. Turns out, I can pay the "ticket" right now... we haggle and agree on two hundred Lempiras (about $10). This is when it got good, for some reason I started to thank him. I thanked him for protecting the great country of Honduras, I thanked him for keeping us safe on our drive, I even thanked his buddy for helping him take money from me. Funny thing is I wasn't even upset about the whole thing, actually it was sort of cool. It will certainly happen again, next time I will try to get out of it for one hundred lempiras.

By the way... A triangulo is a reflective safety triangle that you are supposed to have in your car if you have to break down on the side of the road. We have probably seen close to one hundred broken down or parked cars on the highway and most people just but big rocks in the road to warn other drivers, never seen a "triangulo".

Chunky Jewelry

As a way to lighten up our posts, I want to spend just a little time talking about chunky jewelry. You see, a majority of the mom's at our school are highly style-y in their clothing, carefully coiffed, and decked out in chunky jewelry. At first this chunky jewelry seemed over the top, but it's growing on me. It doesn't seem to matter if it is 7am and a mom is dropping off kids at school, or if it's after school at soccer practice; she's always wearing chunky jewelry.

My favorite chunky jewelry is the multi-strand pearl necklace/bracelet, ring combo. The bracelets have a big silver "buckle" clasping the strands together. I LOVE IT! I WANT ONE! I tried to search the web for an image of the style of pearl jewelry all the wealthy, stylish moms are wearing these days, but I couldn't find any.

I thought I was being bold when I wore the chunky flower earrings given to me by Selena. It was one of the most touching gifts I got before I left. I remember clearly when Selena bought these beautiful earrings for herself at Shiki Monkey in Sebastopol. She had treated herself to them and they were great earrings. Big hoops with a giant, glassy flower hanging from the hoop. She loved her distinctively Latin-style earrings and decided that she would part with them and send them on down to Honduras with me. I started wearing them right away when we moved here, although they were never a style of earring that I would choose for myself. However, they quickly grew on me. Each time I wore them, I would be thinking of my flamboyant, out-there friend who parted with her new favorite earrings as a symbol of our friendship. I also started getting lots of compliments on the earrings. I think my new Latina friends and colleagues were diggin' my markedly Latin flair. I think I'll wear them tomorrow...

So, when we return to Sebastopol next summer, don't be surprised if my jewelry seems a little bigger, a little chunkier, a little exaggerated. I couldn't help myself - it's just so fun to wear!

Little Homesick

If you are reading this post now you are a privy to a very unique, time sensitive post. We are experiencing real-life, hard-core home-sickness. And minor culture shock. It really hit me tonight when we were driving home from the restaurant. Let me set the stage...

Last month we bought a car. After a few necessary repairs, the car is running great and I think it will prove to be a great vehicle to transport us back and forth to school and all over the country and beyond. One of the last repairs to be made was to replace the stereo, which went on the fritz on our road trip when we drove up to the coast. E has been wanting to get the stereo replaced, but, because we are in Honduras, it wasn't simple. After two days of driving around after work, talking to people, getting parts and then going to a shop where 7 guys worked on the wiring, we have a stereo!

Now, to the meat of my story. We were driving home tonight from Las Tejitas, our favorite outdoor eating place. A bunch of teachers were meeting there tonight. There is a play structure for the kids and lots of good food and drink for the adults and we always have a good time there. Driving on the way home with Colin and Elisa, we were listening to music on our new stereo. "Kamera" by Wilco was playing. This song seems to hold significance to all of us because we were all singing along or appreciating the song in some form or another. Such a familiar song with so many memories/connections/feelings tied together. We were driving back to our colonia up a street that has no name other than the street that leads to Las Lomas del Guijarro. We passed the rotunda in front of the American School and tears came to my eyes. Two months ago, this rotunda was so new; such a landmark. It was the center point of our new life and world. We came here because of our new jobs. We came here to teach. But of course we came here for reasons much more grand than that. We came here to grow, to learn, to expand our vision of the world.

So I was caught in a moment of awe where I was listening to a song that is SO unconsciously tied in to my old, Sebastopol, California life and my "new" surroundings that just a short time ago seemed so new, but are now so strangely familiar.

As I write this in my dining room, there are dogs barking, loud motorcycles driving by, music and people singing along from a party somewhere near our house and loud popping sounds. The sound might be the sound of a gun firing, or not... I hear them too frequently for them to be actual gunfire (that's what my rational mind says). But it's a loud bang or POW! sound and I hear it all the time. My point is that all these new and frequent sounds are such a part of my everyday existence that they are no longer novel.

I am in cultural limbo.

My apologies if you are still reading. This may have become a cathartic, self-serving ramble. I miss our family, Milo, our friends, the neighborhood, Sebastopol at large, and familiarity. Bottom line - I'm a little homesick.