Buenos días de Ojojona, Honduras! We’re beginning to approach the end of training already and it’s hard to believe. They’ll tell us our site placements sometime during the first week in May; I think we’re all getting a little anxious to know. Overall, things are still going great here. Here’s the summary of this week’s blog post:
1. Business trip to the playa!
2. Singing in Honduras
3. How manners and politeness are different here
4. Explosive diarrhea… not really, but casi
1.
Beach. This past week we business trainees went on a field trip to the beach on the Pacific! Pretty cool trip. We visited various small Honduran businesses geared towards tourism and then wrote up business plans about them. The weather was hot and humid, but we go
t to camp on a beautiful beach (see pic if it loads). There was some beach volleyball involved as well as a bonfire, guitar playing and singing and cards. It was a great break from our classroom training and a time for some real “team-building.” The next day we visited the town of Amapala, located on Tiger Island about 20 minutes south in boat ride off the mainland. Another super hot day, but the town was muy tranquilo. To top it off, we ate at a seafood restaurant that was literally right on the beach. We had ceviche, “curiles” (black clams, normally eaten raw, that live in the freshwater mangrove swamps along the Southern coast) with lemon and lime and pico de gallo, and a great paella. Delicious—even the curiles. Plus, better yet, I didn’t get sick! All in all, it was an awesome trip.
Our training director hinted that one of the 18 of us might get placed there for the two years. I think it would be cool to live on a Pacific island for my service, even if it were in sweltering heat and humidity. I’d get used to it, right?
2.
Singing. Just a quick observation on singing here in Honduras (okay, it’s a stereotype, I’ll admit). Nobody sings in tune here. The hymns at church remind me of holidays with family in Iowa (not to mention any names), people singing along with the radio is painful to listen to, and even the Honduran bands that are played on the radio are often live versions that are horribly off key. And boy do they blast music everywhere. Somebody else in my group was talking about the same thing and they compared the radio here to a drunken karaoke night. That’s kinda harsh, but funny. I’m sure there are some people here in this country who have a hint of musical ability in terms of tone; I just haven’t found them yet. I mean good for Hondurans for just singin’ their little hearts out, without caring or knowing they’re making me squirm a little.
3.
Manners. Another generalization about Honduras that has struck me as noteworthy over the weeks: how manners and politeness are different here and, perhaps, a bit contradictory. On the one hand, Honduran people are super conservative and polite to the maximum in terms of how they use their language—they treat almost everybody with “Usted,” the formal “you.” It’s sort of like calling everybody sir or madam in English. They certainly don’t do that in Spain; and we certainly don’t do it in America (though I think Southerners are the closest thing to it). What’s more is that they say “mande” instead of “what” or “yes?” when somebody calls their name. Literally translated, they say, “give me orders” or “take charge.” Even another example is that they say “con permiso” all the time—when they walk in front of somebody, when they get up from the table and when they want somebody’s attention. It basically means, “with your permission, I will pass or get up from the table.” It’s like they’re all still living under Spanish colonial rule, begging permission from the Peninsulares that are in charge. It’s nice, but a bit extreme in my opinion.
Yet, on the other hand, lots of things that are big no-no’s in America are acceptable here in terms of manners and politeness. These very polite Hondurans who treat everybody formally, have no problem spitting on the floor in their house, right on the tiles. I mean, what’s wrong with that, right? They’re just going to mop the floor in a few days anyway. Another thing is that they throw trash everywhere except in trash cans: out the bus window, on the same floor they just spat on, on the street as they’re walking. There is no second thought about littering. I guess the public sanitation services aren’t quite on par with America’s, but still… Finally, when you go to the local corner pulpería (market) to buy something, it’s customary for the attendant to greet you with, “what do you want?” I haven’t gotten a courteous “hello” or “good afternoon” yet. Nice customer service.
4.
Sickness. So I haven’t had explosive diarrhea yet, but I’ve gotten sick to my stomach here two times now and it’s not fun. But, I’m not sharing this to gross you out or for sympathy, but rather journalistic accuracy: just to admit that yes, my gringo stomach has a lot to get used to. It’s part of the adjustment of the Peace Corps I guess. I think everybody in my group has gotten sick to the stomach at least once in the past couple months here. The first time I got sick was definitely my fault: I ate a “minuta” from a street vendor in the central park here in Ojojona on a really hot day. Bad move. Minutas are basically fruit icies with shaved ice (most likely made from unpurified water which we’re not supposed to drink/consume, no matter what physical state), covered in three types of fruits (strawberries, pineapple, and tamarind which probably were not washed or very fresh) and topped off with a healthy pour of condensed milk (that had probably been sitting out in the sun all day). It tasted damn good, but boy did I regret it that night and over the next couple days. The next time I got sick was the next week and was most likely due to fish soup which tasted okay, but was questionable. Ugh.
Finally, one last sickness, I got a pretty mean sinus cold that hit just yesterday. No stomach symptoms yet. All the kids in my house are sneezing lots these days, probably caused by the change in weather over the past week (it’s been rainy and cold), and nobody knows how to cover their mouth. So snot is flying all over the place all the time (literally sometimes). Plus, they’re kids who like to go to school and share their sickness with other kids. And I’m a gringo with an immune system not used to these tropical bugs.
Actually, I wanted to say that the Peace Corps Medical Officers (PCMO’s) have been really great and are just a phone call away. They deliver medicine right away and tell you how to get better. But they threaten to take a stool sample if you don’t get better in a few days. Some people in the group have apparently had parasites already, so I feel pretty lucky. If you’re lucky, I’ll be filling you in on all of my illnesses over the months to come.
Sorry about all the parentheses; my teachers have always told me that I use too many of them, but that’s just how I roll. Okay, enough typing for now. Take care.
lots of local businesses including a potter way up in the hills overlooking Ojojona, artisan shops in the main plaza, a tilapia farm 45 minutes into the woods on a very bumpy road, and a local cheese producer. The last made me a little nauseous, but the farm was really cool. I like how they’re making it a point to show us all aspects of typical Honduran businesses.
ves with the help of a local kid who lived around there. The paintings were neat, but sadly people had graffiti-ed the rest of the caves (see pic if it loads—which it probably won’t, based on my track record here). The whole thing took about five hours all together. De todos modos, it was awesome to get out into nature.
