It seems that my time in Honduras is quickly drawing to a close. This past month has been a bit of a whirlwind. I feel like I’ve been gone from Santa Cruz as much or more than the time spent here in the town. Although I’m very glad to have experienced some “typical” weekends hanging around and spending time with people in Santa Cruz, I really enjoyed doing some weekend trips this month and seeing more of Honduras.

The first weekend in November I headed out to visit the Copan Ruins with Blanca. We took a bus from Santa Cruz to San Pedro Sula, and then another bus from San Pedro in the direction of Copan Ruins. We were excited to be taking a trip, and it was neat to connect individually with Blanca, as most of our time together is spent with her family (lovely family, just a different dynamic). Everything seemed to be going smoothly and we were about 2 ½ hours into the trip when air started escaping rapidly from the front tire on our side of the bus. Thankfully, we were able to continue a little further until we could pull over beside a lonely Pulperia along the road. Not that this good fortune would be of any help in changing our bus tire, but it did mean that people could exit from the bus to buy snack food/ drinks and use the bathroom. The bus driver and helpers got out and started puttering around on the tire change. I’m not sure how they propped the bus up or how that worked, but all of a sudden the bus lurched towards the ground and I felt instantly sick looking out the window and seeing the helper trapped beneath this huge bus. Nearly everyone left the bus, running to exit, as if our weight was the key factor in whether the helper survived or not. Fortunately, there was enough space that they were able to extract the helper from underneath the bus, but I’m unsure of the extent of his injuries, especially internal injuries. There was no calling-of-ambulances or bringing-the-nearest-doctor. He was not even laid on a board. They hauled him (one man per limb, no back support) to lie on the seat in the next vehicle that passed. I can only hope that they took him to the nearest clinic, that the clinic was open, and that a doctor was present. The lack of essential medical services really stuck me in that moment. Even the communities that are fortunate enough to live along a main road are probably too remote to receive emergency medical attention – hospitals and any ambulance services are limited to the large cities. After the helper was taken away by another vehicle, no one went back to working on the bus. I’m not sure whether they had called someone and were waiting an indefinite amount of time for help to appear, or what, but everyone was crowded under the shelter of the Pulperia to avoid the rain while nothing was being done. We were fortunate that an empty Rapidito (little bus) happened to be off his route and was willing to take whoever could squeeze in all the way to Copan Ruins.

Copan Ruins is the name of the townsite nearest to the actual Ruins. It is a very cute little village, with cobblestone streets and a nice central square. It is fairly clean and is obviously a tourist attraction, with many little hotels and restaurants, and people taking advantage of the weekend action to sell jewellery in the streets. Because of our bus trauma, Blanca and I arrived in Copan Ruins even later than we expected, but found a hotel and still had a couple of daylight hours to wander around and see the village. We were lucky to have unwittingly chosen a weekend even more bustling than usual. On Friday night, there was a motorcycle event which brought motorcyclists from all over Central America. The village was full of guys in leather Harley gear and motorcycles parked in all the streets. We also randomly ran into a gal from Spain and a guy from England that we hung out with for a while during the street concert. On Saturday Blanca and I toured the actual ruins. It’s pretty cool to see history that you’ve learned about your entire life, but also a bit surreal. We had a guide explaining the Mayan history to us each step of the way which was interesting, but nothing can beat climbing on the old rocks and buildings in the sunshine.

The second week of November I went to San Pedro Sula to teach classes there. Instead of going back and forth daily, Bryan arranged for me to stay with a friend of his there and her family. She was a very gracious hostess, and her daughter was nice enough to lend me her bed for the two nights. The woman’s name is Lisa, and she lives a ways outside of San Pedro Sula, so we did a lot of driving. I also got to know the taxi drill quite well, having to travel to the other side of the city for the classes. I really enjoyed participating in Lisa’s dance class on one of the evenings I was there too! Manuel’s family fed me a delicious lunch each day in San Pedro, and I enjoyed going for a couple of walks with his daughters.

After teaching in San Pedro I had one day to rest back in Santa Cruz and then I headed off in the bus yet again with Yeni, a really lovely friend who works with us in the office. We took the bus from Santa Cruz to San Pedro, another from San Pedro to Puerto Cortes, and finally another from Puerto Cortes to Omoa. Omoa is a little fishing village right along the sea which also boasts an old Spanish Fort. The Spanish Fort was neat, and the views are gorgeous from on top of the walls. It didn’t take long to walk around it though, as a good portion was under restoration or construction. Yeni and I had heard so much about the beautiful beaches in Omoa, but found ourselves a bit confused to find only rocks and restaurants lining the shore. Although we were dodging rocks and walking around buildings to walk along the shore, we did enjoy the gorgeous ocean views. In our shoreline walk we happened across a Bed & Breakfast owned and run by Canadians! Unfortunately, we had already checked ourselves into another hotel, but we did come back the following morning for a super-delicious typical Canadian breakfast! Pancakes, bacon, French toast…mmmm. I have grown to love the typical Honduran breakfast as well – beans, eggs, tortillas, avocado – but I definitely had a pancake and bacon craving. As it turns out, Karen (owner of B&B) was able to solve the mystery of the missing beaches. Apparently the earthquake last year caused the point of land which supports Omoa to sink by two feet. Now the seawater comes up to the feet of the restaurants, which have placed the line of rocks along the shore in attempts to stave off the water a little longer. It is a large tragedy for the people of Omoa who have lost most of their tourism when I’m sure it was hard enough to make a living selling jewellery or coconut bread before the earthquake.

The third week in November was spent largely working in the office, as I was not booked to teach in a community, but come Friday, I headed out with Yeni once again in the bus. It was a busy trip – we spent the first night in Comayagua, the old capital of Honduras. Comayagua has a beautiful central park and cathedral – the cathedral boasting the oldest clock in the Americas and second oldest in the world after Big Ben. In the late afternoon it was raining off and on, so Yeni and I found a cafe (yay, a cafe!) and settled in just chatting. I realized how far I have come when I received my coffee with two small sugar ants, and I removed them and drank it anyways! We met a few guys in the military from Puerto Rico, working on a base here in Honduras who came over and joined us for most of the evening. As always, a very enjoyable and interesting part of traveling is meeting people from other parts of the world! Yeni and I continued on to Tegucigalpa on Saturday. I had a package to deliver and then Yeni and I went for lunch. Tegucigalpa is located in a large valley full of hills and from the outside coming in looks very beautiful. Once inside the city, it did not seem quite so pleasant, and I wouldn’t have felt comfortable or safe walking around to get to know the place in my usual tourist style. We continued on that afternoon to Valle de Angeles (Valley of Angels), a small artisan community about half hour from Tegucigalpa. We wandered around and browsed the various displays. That evening the power went out in the town while we were out and about – not outside of the norm, but a first during my travels – and we were lucky to get something for dinner! Knowing that we were in Honduras, we stopped at a candlelit Pulperia to pick up a few candles and matches. Sure enough, when we got back to the hotel, the generator ran a few outside lights, but they handed us one lone candle on our way to our dark room. It was actually quite cozy with our four candles, but then we faced our next hurdle – the water didn’t work. The water turning off is the usual in Honduras, but usually hotels deal with that problem so that the guests always have water there. We went to ask, and within an hour or two, we once again had water… but not hot water. We never did get hot water (though that is always the advertised perk of hotels here) that night or the next morning and the water was almost Canadian cold! In Canada, if we pay for something and that thing doesn’t come through, the hotel will compensate somehow or refund to keep the customer happy. I asked Yeni if we should mention it to the front desk, but she said that’s not how it works here – we would have had to ask for them to deal with it at the time we were wanting to shower and found that it wasn’t working. As a Canadian, it frustrated me, especially for the price of one night in the hotel – they were definitely trying to take advantage of tourist dollars without translating that dollar standard into basic room standards. Besides the electricity and water problems, I also woke up with a nice assortment of little bites from whatever little critters were sleeping in the saggy bed with me. Apart from my frustrations with the hotel, Yeni and I had a lovely time getting to know the village and each other. We found a great little typical breakfast spot on Sunday and ate another breakfast there for lunch before we headed back to Tegucigalpa!

This week David Hubert—the Canadian director of CPI– arrived in Santa Cruz. With him he brought a very exciting development to our education project. Right now our students can complete Grades 7-9, a big opportunity when you think that most villages only have access to schooling through Grade 6. In the Honduran system, Grades 7-9 is a cycle followed by Bachillerato (called GED), the equivalent to finishing high school and the diploma needed to enter University. CPI has digitalized the GED and is pursuing permission to offer this next huge education step in the same manner that we now offer Grades 7-9! The education situation is very tenuous in Honduras at the moment, which makes our program even more significant at this time. Many teachers did not get paid this year, and students in the public system in Honduras only received between 60 and 100 days of classes. The school year ended early, everyone hoping that things will be sorted out in time to start anew in February.

Dave will also be present this coming week when we celebrate the graduation of about 25 students who have been studying with us! I am really looking forward to celebrating with the students – most of which I have spent time with studying English! Understanding the troubles that the education system is having right now, and that many students only graduate from Grade 6, really makes the graduation of these students especially extraordinary and emotional. These students of all ages have chosen to take hold of this educational opportunity, and have put in incredible time and effort to arrive at this accomplishment.

I really feel the impending close to my time here in Honduras as this past week I taught in my last community – the last of nine different communities, ten groups of students. Other than San Pedro (where I did not travel back and forth daily) this was the community furthest from Santa Cruz. Bryan let me travel back and forth daily in his truck, which worked out well – and I enjoyed driving again, though primarily on backroads. Driving on the roads leading to Las Delicias, it’s hard to believe that a Rapidito (little bus) passes there a few times a day, and they tell me that the roads are even worse after passing through Las Delicias! It just hits me again how remote many communities are here in Honduras. Remote not defined necessarily by distance from the larger centres, but lack of vehicles and bad roads certainly limit travel—even emergency travel. The scenery around Las Delicias is absolutely gorgeous, however, and it was a pleasure to soak it in each day on the drive. I was a bit frustrated with the girls in Las Delicias in the first couple of days, as in other communities at times. The few boys in the class seemed to learn much quicker, while the girls would continually be looking for their help to remember even the things we had just gone over repeatedly. There were more girls than guys, and the ages were mixed, so there the boys did not have any definite advantage other than their gender. It is a very macho culture, and if I were to theorize about the learning phenomenon, I would say that gender roles are learned very early. Girls know that their role is in the home with the children, and what further education is required to fulfill that role? Girls are likely to stay in the same village, and when are these girls going to need English in Las Delicias? For the boys however, there is the distinct possibility that their future finds them working in the States, where having English would be a great advantage. Although the opportunities for further education are few and far between even for boys here in Honduras, if an opportunity appears, or if the economic means are not lacking, they are more likely to seize an education. I hope that my presence in the communities will at least plant a seed in the girls’ minds—there are other paths that their lives can take, and even taking the traditional path, their lives can be much richer.

Although it is an unpleasant topic, I should mention that I spent a week sick in bed the last week of October. I was thankful that Bryan was here in Santa Cruz, in between his Canada trip and his Africa trip. I still don’t know what I ate that triggered such a severe intestinal reaction, or if it was a build up of bacteria over time (because I really eat everything). It was a very unpleasant and painful experience, but thankfully, Bryan was here to assuage my fears by letting me know that I wasn’t dying, that this will always happen from time to time living in developing countries. It was when Bryan started trying to get me up and out of bed to start doing things again, and I still felt like staying in bed for the intestinal pain that I started to worry that everything wasn’t normal. I caved, and went to the doctor to make sure that I really wasn’t dying… although the blood tests showed exposure to almost all the different types of Salmonella, it turns out that I didn’t have parasites. My large intestine was inflamed, which was causing all the pain, so the doctor gave me meds for the pain and inflammation. She also gave me antibiotics to kill the bad bacteria causing the diarrhoea, and something to replenish the good bacteria. Finally, she gave me an anti-nausea med so that I would feel like eating again. Although I didn’t enjoy being sick at all at the time, I’m glad to have had the experience. It is a reality of living in a developing country, and even the people here (who have stronger systems than me for these bacteria) go through it. I was overwhelmed at the loving concern that many people showed for me when I got sick, calling to check on me or bringing me things—Bryan and everyone from the office, the family who live in front of me (my “Honduran family”), and friends. One day Bryan cheerfully asked me, “isn’t it great that you’ve now got about 20 people worrying about the state of your intestines?!” I did have to laugh – this isn’t a theme that we would normally share in Canada, but here it is a part of life, and everyone understands what you’re going through. I’m happy to report that it didn’t take long before I was feeling normal and eating with gusto everything placed before me once again.

It’s a bit stressful that the countdown has begun. Every day my little neighbour friend, Selene, lets me know that she’s sad because now I only have 6 days left… “and then five, and then four, and then three, and then two, and then one, and then you have to go back to Canada!” … then she says, “but at least you’re going to leave your pictures behind!” Haha! Although I feel the usual last-minute stress (finishing the English course I’ve been working on will be a push considering all the activities planned for this week), changing from one life to another is always a stressful time. It really takes three months just to settle in and develop a relatively normal life in a new setting (especially in a setting so different culturally). I finally feel a sense of normal here in Honduras—I have friends and “family”, places to be, and I understand better how things work. I have developed two really great girl friends, Yeni and Blanca, whom I will be sad to leave behind, and I finally met someone last night that could have given me dance lessons throughout my three months… but now I only have one week left! Although I dread the reverse culture shock that I have no doubt will be severe, I am really looking forward to seeing family and friends again in Canada. Time really does fly!

Category: Honduras, On location // 5 Comments »