Thanksgiving all over again

 Ohhhh looky here....I thought I lost this post into cyberspace, but the draft was sitting here all along...just waiting for me to press 'publish'.  More thanksgiving is in order for me then. :)

It's Thanksgiving and I am in Canada giving thanks for an abundant lack of beans and tortillas,  fall colours, the sensation of feeling chilled, and many, many warm and welcoming friends and family.  After 8 months out of country, I was spurred by a bought of homesickness and a window of opportunity that presented itself after the successful completion of the Sources-Fuentes project  , to come for a visit before the snow flew in earnest.

Dog shit and other thresholds

Today I relocated to an internet cafe because the internet at work was distracting me and I just wanted to go home.  Thought this might press my "procrastination reset button".  As you can see, it's working out splendidly.

Somedays (like today) I just reach a cultural, linguistic threshold and want nothing more than to crawl under the covers with a good English novel, and isolate.  This is classic culture shock behaviour.  Overall, my adjustment to life here has been really smooth, and really enjoyable.  I could not have hoped for a more beautiful new city to live in, supportive workmates, a helpful roommate, inclusive neighbours and interesting work projects. I've got a fun, adventurous, supportive circle of friends too.  But somedays I reach a point, where concentrating fiercely on everything that is said, and everything that I want to say, gets a little taxing.  Then there's some of the less than enjoyable cultural nuances...*

So, "Yay for me!" I was invited to and gleefully attended a party with a bunch of English speaking foreigners  last weekend.  The Peace Corps (American volunteer development organization) has a pretty significant presence in Honduras.  At any given time, my organization CUSO-VSO has about 5 to 10 volunteers in country.  The Peace Corps has about 150.   Anyway, they were having a big "Welcome/Going Away" bash on Saturday, and I got to attend.  Wheeeeee!!! We danced, in a big group, free-style...ohhhh bliss!  Hondurans tend to always dance in a couple, and I have endured endless merengues with few spins, no corner turns and dreadfully boring lack of dancing challenge, to the extent that I was considering going Mennonite and stopping to dance altogether.  This dancing was so FREEING, and so familiar.  Another thing I revelled in was the enormous veggy salad served with dinner. Raw vegetables in quantity!!

Finally, the surprisingly refreshing thing at that party was the casual cursing interlaced throughout the ENGLISH conversations.  Hondurans tend not to swear.  Even when there's a subtitled movie on TV, and somebody says "shit" they bleep it out, and the subtitles never say, "mierda".  It's not even their own language and they protect themselves from the contaminating influences of bad words!  So, joy, bliss, I heard the F-word a few times Saturday night, and it was like snuggling up on the couch in flannel PJs infront of a fire, with a tub of chocolate Haagan Daaz, a blanket and hitting play on a romantic comedy.  In other words, all the comforts of home.

Going to some nearby hotsprings tonight, then out to a farm tomorrow, then to a party of some other foreigner friends. Happy Friday! 


 * My taxi driver hit on me disrespectfully today.  Super annoying and happens about 30% of the time on the ride to work.  Just get me to the god-damned destination without enquiring  as to my marital status, my desiring of a Honduran, and whether or not I would like to "Fall with you"...I take it that's code for F%^@.  I'd actually like to poke your eyes out with a big stick contaminated with fresh dog shit, but thanks for asking.  That's one for the margins of my Lonely Planet phrase book!



 

I wanted a donkey, I got worms instead.

Originally my posting as a food security advisor was going to be in a very small, rural community in Western Honduras. Upon hearing this, I had made big plans before I left Canada to scrimpt together some of my volunteer honourarium and get myself a donkey. Nothing fancy, just an "A to B" model burro.  His name was to be "Toyota", or alternatively, "Vamonos" (Let's Go).  I arrived, and as we were warned in training could happen, plans had changed, and I was now to be stationed in the much less rural, larger centre of Santa Rosa de Copan.

Oliver Twist Surrealism: Visiting the Orphanage

Every Wednesday afternoon, my neighbour and good friend Mirian, visits one of the orphanages here in Santa Rosa de Copan.  She goes with her own children and a couple of her friends.  I asked to join her this week.

It's an orphanage for children aged 5 years and under.  As we walked through the door, we were rushed by the children.  They came running to receive hugs and smiles and some much needed individual attention.  They had never met me before, and yet, some of them were instantly crawling up into my lap. At one point I opened up to their love and to mine, then I got scared.  This is too hard.  A protective crust enveloped my heart, but recognizing it in time, I willed myself back to the love.

Castles & Romantic Languages & Near Misses

Late lastnight Stéphane and I decided that CUSO-VSO staff likely don't work on Sundays, so we ought to find our own entertainment for the day and look forward to meeting our colleagues on Monday.  At breakfast we asked the hotel owners where we might change our moneys  into the local currency, Lempiras, and what sort of touristy attractions they might recommend.  As luck would have it, there is a nearby supermarket (Mas x Menos...More for Less) where we could use an international ATM, and the family would be going for a Sunday outting on a nearby mountain top for the day.  We were invited to hitch a ride with them to said mountain top.  ¡Que suerte!

We gleefully took them up on their kind offer.  We thought this low-land neighbourhood was mucky-muck?  On the way up we passed the residence of the American embassador.  Wow.  At 10 km we pulled into a private residence.  This was the 2nd home of the owners of the hotel, built in European style, with beautiful landscaping.  The neighbours, architects from Europe, built a modern-day castle next door. No F-werding kidding (see photo).