Okay. I love my students. I just do. I am helping one of the girls with an application for doing an exchange program in the states next year and SHE IS SO FUNNY. Oh my goodness, I love her. Read this email I just received. Maybe it's not as funny to you, but I think it's hilarious....
Subject: heyyyy Miss Sarah whats up?? so sorry for sending this late.
You will not believe what happen to me!!! I HATE MY COMPUTER !! I dont know what the hell is going on with this thing....
half of my essay dissapear and I have no idea why?? I want to kill myself right know .
Yesterday I went to bed like until 12 30 and all my work apparently is gone !!!!!!!!!! . For my luck when I came to home there was no internet!!!!!!! and when I went to the alcaldia for my birth certificate they make me and my mother wait like 2 hours. They told us to go tomorrow again..... they should had say that since the beggining (assholes).This is definetly not my day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! everything is so mess up!!!.......................
The only good thing is that yesterday before taping the essay I wrote it on a separate papers so I just have to copy it again!!!!!!!!!..
Right know im retyping everything so I just send you one page and I will sended to you the other part later but dont worry, you dont have to check if you can not, it's not your work ... jejeje so sorry......
So if you dont have time you can help me do it tomorrow!!!!!!! THANKS!!!!!!! MISS!! ahh and by the way my mom saids thanks too! jejeje
After I finished all this and receive an answer I owe you something!!!!!!! a donut or a granita !!! It's a deal!!!!!!!
ok miss Sarah see u tomorrow!!!!! I need to ask you something about the activities of the school they ask I think I need to change that because dia de la raza anda that stuff are more like events!!!
Anyway talk to you tomorrow !!! :D
say hi to miss Abby jejeje!!!!!!!!!!!
I promise she learned "what the hell" and "assholes" before I came along. ahahaha I'm loving this right now. Oh high school and the years of the millions of exclamation points. LOVING IT. This is when it's fun to be a teacher.
Love you all!!!!!!!!!!!!! Adios for now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Taking a Year Off- Stuff White People Like
I'm sure a lot of you are familiar with the blog- Stuff White People Like. This made me laugh...because it's exactly what I'm doing...wah wah?
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/01/11/120-taking-a-year-off/
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/01/11/120-taking-a-year-off/
Sunday, May 3, 2009
I Pretty Much Never Thought I'd Say This in My Entire Life...but...
The lions are keeping me awake. The lions or elephants...could be elephants. What are you talking about, Sarah? How could lions and elephants be keeping you up? You're in Honduras not on an African safari. Oh contrarie my fair friends. Well, no. I'm not on an African safari. Where I am, however, is in Santa Rosa de Copan and in Santa Rosa de Copan, why, the circus is in town! Yes, dear readers, the circus. Lucky me the big blue and white striped tent is located less than two blocks from my house. Also lucky for me, the animals enjoy roaring loudly at all hours of the night. The tent got here about a month ago and I really have no clue when it is leaving. Not that I mind...I just feel for those poor animals being kept in cages and probably being treated rather badly. If the way they treat their pets is any indication as to how they might treat some lowly circus lions, well let's just say it's probably not that great.
Sometimes this place just reminds me so much of the 1900's in the U.S. except with more technological advances. People still go to the market, people in the country eat their own animals, we have 2 stoplights, no one has a mailbox at their house, folks ride horses to town, you have to go to 5 separate stores if you want nails, Tylenol, bread, dog food, and a doughnut. And dog gone it! The circus comes to town! The last time I went to the circus I think I was around 4 years old. Time for another go? I'll let ya know...
Sometimes this place just reminds me so much of the 1900's in the U.S. except with more technological advances. People still go to the market, people in the country eat their own animals, we have 2 stoplights, no one has a mailbox at their house, folks ride horses to town, you have to go to 5 separate stores if you want nails, Tylenol, bread, dog food, and a doughnut. And dog gone it! The circus comes to town! The last time I went to the circus I think I was around 4 years old. Time for another go? I'll let ya know...
Friday, May 1, 2009
Mom and Pop in Honduras
Parents in Honduras. Where do I begin?
Well, it was so wonderful having Mom and Dad here. I was really itching for a break and to be able to spend it with them was perfect. Our trip itinerary was as such: Roatan, Copan Ruinas, and then Santa Rosa.
It was really interesting to see Honduras through the eyes of my parents. It showed me how much I've gotten used to the way of life down here. So much that got their panties in a twist really didn't phase me much. Transferring buses for no reason, people constantly cutting in line, not having power for hours on end...I've just begun to take the Honduran outlook on things I guess. At the beginning I'd constantly be thinking, "well why do they do this? or why don't you talk to someone? why don't you fix it? why? why? why?" I'm not sure when it happened, but there came a point in our time down here that Abby and I came up with a very important and sanity keeping philosophy. Similar to the U.S. Army, we just don't ask.
My dad, more than my mom was at points, beside himself with impatience. When we were waiting for our ferry ride to Roatan there were about a hundred million people trying to get through some double doors. Of course, only one of the doors was opened. Why? DON'T ASK. Have I taught you anything?? Dad was just watching that door as if the fate of humanity depended on it. He could not comprehend WHY no one was opening that second door. Lots of rolling eyes happened at this point. Sorry, Dad. Of course I was rolling my eyes at my mom, and she later informed me that she was also clenching her fists with impatience as well. Guess I was outnumbered.
Thank goodness Roatan was as amazing as it was, cause it sure wasn't pleasant getting there. Besides the double door madness, I failed to realize my apparent alergy to boats. Specifically ferry boats sans dramamine. I won't get into details, but it was most definitely not my "I'M ON A BOAT!" fantasy. In fact, I almost puked several times. (How's that for no details?) Adding insult to injury, about a third of the boat was puking. They had designated plastic-bag-and-paper-towel-hander-outter-bag-of-vomit-thrower-outters along all the sides of the boat. And yes, that was their official name. The translation is a little difficult, you understand. My parents were fine, but I'd definitely seen better days.
Thankfully, land finally appeared and I was saved. Then came our baggage claim. No rhyme or reason...I can't even go into details. It was totally Honduras, once again and completely unorganized, once again. Annnd, once again, I didn't really think anything of it, but the parents...well, I bet you can guess.
Now, I don't want to paint the picture that Mom and Dad are freaking out all over the place. They were great and wonderful sports when things weren't picture perfect. (Most of the time...DAAAAAD)
But now we were in paradise. Full-on paradise. I kept imagining that Corona commercial with the empty beach and the palm trees and the lime. That's where we were y'all. It was the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen, let alone been to. Turquoise water that was soooo clear with white sanded beaches. Not to mention, our house/apartment that we were renting was RIGHT ON THE BEACH.
Some highlights of Roatan-- awesome snorkeling every day, holding GIANT star fish, eating damn good sea food, pinacoladas, mom drinking just enough of her Roatan Makin' me Crazy, meeting a man who collects Chiquita Banana stickers, being treated to a Caribbean dance show, and watching Michigan State triumph and then get pounced. (They were the winners of my bracket--so contrary to popular belief, I wasn't happy about this. Though along with popular belief, I bounced back preeet-tyyy quickly. MS-WHO?)
Roatan really has to be described by pictures...so please take a look...for my words can't do it justice:
Drivin' me coconuts!
After 5ish days relaxing on Roatan we headed bright and early to Copan Ruinas. 4th times a charm! The parents loved Copan, as did I. I really like that town, my only gripe this time was how freakin hot it was. Man we were sweating buckets most of our time there. But thankfully we had hammocks and cold beverages right outside our room. We stayed at my friend Cid's uncle's place, Casa de Cafe...same place that housed us during my and Abby's Halloween jaunt to Copan. Cid was there takin care of us...you know, checking us in, getting us drinks, keeping Dad entertained by watching Talledega Nights with him.
Naturally we did the Ruins as well as the Macaw Mountain Bird Park. The Bird Park was so cool because a) my dad is oddly obsessed with birds and was an orinthologist in his past life. b) We met the owner of the park who is this guy from Tennessee who first came to Honduras in the 1970s. The stories he told were incredible. It was such a Bruce Miller thing to happen. My Dad, who makes friends everywhere he goes, started talking to this older gentleman who seemed to know his way around the place. Lo and behold, Mr. Owner extrodinaire. Lucky us we got to talk to him for about an hour...just shooting the bull if you will. He started here in the commercial fishing business on Roatan when Roatan was NOTHING. Swamp land and that's it. He was great...with a southern drawl to boot. GOOD TIMES.
Now, as I've stated, my Dad meets people everywhere he goes and will talk to everyone and anyone. I love that about him, but we definitely make fun of him for it too. Well, it finally caught up with Daddy-o. While staying at Casa de Cafe, we met a lot of people traveling, a lot of other bilingual school teachers actually. It was everyone's spring break, so everyone was taking advantage like we were. One day my parents start talking to these couples who looked older than them, but apparently they were around the same age. So one of the ladies starts talking about growing up in L.A. and my Dad says, "oh yeah me too, the Pacific Palisades..." or something and she goes, "Oh me too!" The Pacific Palisades is not that big of a place, but I suppose it's definitely possible that you wouldn't know everyone. But then! she claims that she went to Pali High AND graduated the same year as my Dad. "This is getting fishy" thinks my Dad. Anyone that knows Pops knows that he would definitely have been the king of his high school, aka people KNEW him. And if they didn't know him, they knew people he knew. So Dad starts raddleing off all of these people from Pali and her answer is always, "No...nope...nah...nope." He literally named 30 people. She didn't know any of them. Pali high was decently sized, but not so much that you wouldn't know ANNNYYONE....in the SAME class. By that time we had all determined this lady was crazy. My Dad will talk to anyone, and finally he finds a person who he REALLY could talk to, and he seriously was hiding from her for the rest of the trip. He'd go out to the hammock and appear back in the room pretty quickly...due to the crazy lady's comments about her alleged alma mater. At one point she was reading a book on the Mayans and said to my dad, "Ya know, I had a history teacher at Pali who really inspired me to learn about the Mayans...he was just really inspiring to me..." My Dad goes, "Oh, was it Mr. So and So? or Mr. Blah blah blah?" Crazy Lady, "Oh...I don't remember his name...but he was such an inspiration." Riiiiight. We just chalked it up to having done too many drugs in the 70's. (The lady, not my dad, to clarify.)
One really cool thing about Honduras is what they do for Easter weekend. Interestingly, their big day is not Easter, it's Good Friday. Everyone has the day off, nothing is open, no buses run, etc, etc. The town works all day and night creating this awesome street art made of sawdust and paint. Frist they coat the entire street with sawdust and then they create these intricate and incredibly vibrant paintings of all things God, Jesus, Mary, Thou Shalt, Thou Shalt Not, and other such things you'd relate to Catholicism. It was really cool...completely different than what we do up North. In fact I was telling my students the other day about the Easter Bunny. They thought it was so silly.
Had I listened to my American-living-in-Honduras gut, I would have known that we should just take this art display for what it is and not try and get anything out of it. Unfortunately, this did not happen. We happened to run into one of my students around 6:30pm and I asked good ol Eduardo Ernesto what time the festivities were happening tonight. I didn't really know what the festitvities were, but I knew something was supposed to happen involving the art and the church. He said that he thought it was starting around 7:30pm. So, Mom and I decided to do some souvenier shopping while we waited while smart Pops went back to the hotel. Well, we finish our shopping around 7:45ish and there is still no sign of anything happening. I'm sure it'll start soon...so we plop our selves down on the side of the street. A half hour passes and I start talking to some cute boys from Montana. They'd been there since about 5:30pm. Oh Americans, we're so stupid. At least they were fun to talk to. Unfortunately, a couple of people ended up sitting in between us and them and ended that convo pretty quick-like. Sooo...8:45, 9:00 come around. Still nothing. More people are beginning to gather, but NOTHING IS HAPPENING. It was one of those situations where you've already waited so long, you can't leave now. We should have. We definitely should have. Because finally, when something started, it was SO WAH WAH. It was 10 minutes maximum of 3 guys talking in Spanish about only God knows what....probably himself. One of those moments in my life where I thought...wow...what I could have done with those 3 hours of my life. Oh well. Mom got a little taste for and I was once again reminded how things work in Honduras. I need those reminders now and again to not trust Hondurans when it comes to time, directions, or general knowledge of what is going on.
Mom comments on the NON happenings...
Our next and final stop was my humble abode in good ol Santa Rosa. It was great to show the 'rents a bit of a day in the life. Of course, as I predicted we came home to about 20-30 dead cockroaches and 10+ live ones. Fun! See: Sarah Bug Huntin Video. The best part about Santa Rosa though was the climate. I seriously could not have picked a better place to live. The weather is very Northern Californian here. Hardly ever gets unbareably hot, and when it does, it's only for a week or so. For example, right now it is raining cats and dogs outside, and tomorrow it'll be a nice 75ish degrees. Definitely a nice change from the hot as balls rest of Honduras.
Our first full day in Santa Rosa we walked around a bit and went to tour the local cigar factory. And by tour I mean you knock on the big iron door and ask if you can be taken around. It's not the Jelly Belly tour I was used to, but it was SOOOOO cool. We started in the room where they were drying the tobacco and oh my goodness we could hardly breathe. They gave us those doctor masks (you know the ones everyone is wearing in Mexico) The fumes, I guess that's what they were, were outrageously strong. I don't know how people are working in that atmosphere. Well, I know how, but it certainly isn't healthy. This guy took us all around the factory and we saw every step in making a hand rolled cigar. I wish I could have taken pictures, but we weren't allowed. I did snag one though...muhaha. These workers were moving so quickly it was so incredible. Such an art I tell you. The place employees about 1,000 people in the town and I think makes something like 75,000 cigars a DAAAAAY! What??? Crazy, right? All hand done. I am not a cigar smoker, but for all of those of you who are, be sure to appreciate the work that went into it next time you light up. One of the coolest things I've seen while down here.
In the Flor de Copan cigar factory...dried tobacco
Tuesday I had to go back to school and the parents joined in on the fun. They told stories of my embarassing childhood and gave out homemade rice krispy treats...needless to say, the kids enjoyed it. My parents said I have authority in the classroom...so that's good to know. Though, I'm sure the kids were just being good because the parents were present.
*side note* We took a hike in the mountains around Santa Rosa last Saturday with the 11th and 10th graders for their P.E. class. Abby was talking to some of the 11th graders saying how she wishes she could have gotten to teach them this year. To which, one of my students replied, "No you don't. Miss Sarah wants to kill us sometimes." hahaha...ain't it the TRUTH! *end side note*
After that...well, it was time for Mom and Dad to leave. Abby, Chris, and I took them to Cherros, our favorite hole in the wall on their last night. Good times were had by all of course. It was hard to say goodbye, but I knew I'd be seeing them again soon. Seriously, them coming down here has given me such renewed energy that I can really finish this year out strong. I really can't wait to be back home though. And Joey is going to UCDAVIS! I'm so proud! The Miller fam all together again in good ol Nor Cal. PRECIOUS.
P.S. See all the pics from the trip....
My facebook album
Mom's Flicker Pics
Well, it was so wonderful having Mom and Dad here. I was really itching for a break and to be able to spend it with them was perfect. Our trip itinerary was as such: Roatan, Copan Ruinas, and then Santa Rosa.
It was really interesting to see Honduras through the eyes of my parents. It showed me how much I've gotten used to the way of life down here. So much that got their panties in a twist really didn't phase me much. Transferring buses for no reason, people constantly cutting in line, not having power for hours on end...I've just begun to take the Honduran outlook on things I guess. At the beginning I'd constantly be thinking, "well why do they do this? or why don't you talk to someone? why don't you fix it? why? why? why?" I'm not sure when it happened, but there came a point in our time down here that Abby and I came up with a very important and sanity keeping philosophy. Similar to the U.S. Army, we just don't ask.
My dad, more than my mom was at points, beside himself with impatience. When we were waiting for our ferry ride to Roatan there were about a hundred million people trying to get through some double doors. Of course, only one of the doors was opened. Why? DON'T ASK. Have I taught you anything?? Dad was just watching that door as if the fate of humanity depended on it. He could not comprehend WHY no one was opening that second door. Lots of rolling eyes happened at this point. Sorry, Dad. Of course I was rolling my eyes at my mom, and she later informed me that she was also clenching her fists with impatience as well. Guess I was outnumbered.
Thank goodness Roatan was as amazing as it was, cause it sure wasn't pleasant getting there. Besides the double door madness, I failed to realize my apparent alergy to boats. Specifically ferry boats sans dramamine. I won't get into details, but it was most definitely not my "I'M ON A BOAT!" fantasy. In fact, I almost puked several times. (How's that for no details?) Adding insult to injury, about a third of the boat was puking. They had designated plastic-bag-and-paper-towel-hander-outter-bag-of-vomit-thrower-outters along all the sides of the boat. And yes, that was their official name. The translation is a little difficult, you understand. My parents were fine, but I'd definitely seen better days.
Thankfully, land finally appeared and I was saved. Then came our baggage claim. No rhyme or reason...I can't even go into details. It was totally Honduras, once again and completely unorganized, once again. Annnd, once again, I didn't really think anything of it, but the parents...well, I bet you can guess.
Now, I don't want to paint the picture that Mom and Dad are freaking out all over the place. They were great and wonderful sports when things weren't picture perfect. (Most of the time...DAAAAAD)
But now we were in paradise. Full-on paradise. I kept imagining that Corona commercial with the empty beach and the palm trees and the lime. That's where we were y'all. It was the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen, let alone been to. Turquoise water that was soooo clear with white sanded beaches. Not to mention, our house/apartment that we were renting was RIGHT ON THE BEACH.
Some highlights of Roatan-- awesome snorkeling every day, holding GIANT star fish, eating damn good sea food, pinacoladas, mom drinking just enough of her Roatan Makin' me Crazy, meeting a man who collects Chiquita Banana stickers, being treated to a Caribbean dance show, and watching Michigan State triumph and then get pounced. (They were the winners of my bracket--so contrary to popular belief, I wasn't happy about this. Though along with popular belief, I bounced back preeet-tyyy quickly. MS-WHO?)
Roatan really has to be described by pictures...so please take a look...for my words can't do it justice:
View from our window of our apartment.
Drivin' me coconuts!
Yeah, I'd go back.
Last night on Roatan!
Last night on Roatan!
After 5ish days relaxing on Roatan we headed bright and early to Copan Ruinas. 4th times a charm! The parents loved Copan, as did I. I really like that town, my only gripe this time was how freakin hot it was. Man we were sweating buckets most of our time there. But thankfully we had hammocks and cold beverages right outside our room. We stayed at my friend Cid's uncle's place, Casa de Cafe...same place that housed us during my and Abby's Halloween jaunt to Copan. Cid was there takin care of us...you know, checking us in, getting us drinks, keeping Dad entertained by watching Talledega Nights with him.
Naturally we did the Ruins as well as the Macaw Mountain Bird Park. The Bird Park was so cool because a) my dad is oddly obsessed with birds and was an orinthologist in his past life. b) We met the owner of the park who is this guy from Tennessee who first came to Honduras in the 1970s. The stories he told were incredible. It was such a Bruce Miller thing to happen. My Dad, who makes friends everywhere he goes, started talking to this older gentleman who seemed to know his way around the place. Lo and behold, Mr. Owner extrodinaire. Lucky us we got to talk to him for about an hour...just shooting the bull if you will. He started here in the commercial fishing business on Roatan when Roatan was NOTHING. Swamp land and that's it. He was great...with a southern drawl to boot. GOOD TIMES.
At the Ruins...sweating, a lot.
Dad and his besties
Now, as I've stated, my Dad meets people everywhere he goes and will talk to everyone and anyone. I love that about him, but we definitely make fun of him for it too. Well, it finally caught up with Daddy-o. While staying at Casa de Cafe, we met a lot of people traveling, a lot of other bilingual school teachers actually. It was everyone's spring break, so everyone was taking advantage like we were. One day my parents start talking to these couples who looked older than them, but apparently they were around the same age. So one of the ladies starts talking about growing up in L.A. and my Dad says, "oh yeah me too, the Pacific Palisades..." or something and she goes, "Oh me too!" The Pacific Palisades is not that big of a place, but I suppose it's definitely possible that you wouldn't know everyone. But then! she claims that she went to Pali High AND graduated the same year as my Dad. "This is getting fishy" thinks my Dad. Anyone that knows Pops knows that he would definitely have been the king of his high school, aka people KNEW him. And if they didn't know him, they knew people he knew. So Dad starts raddleing off all of these people from Pali and her answer is always, "No...nope...nah...nope." He literally named 30 people. She didn't know any of them. Pali high was decently sized, but not so much that you wouldn't know ANNNYYONE....in the SAME class. By that time we had all determined this lady was crazy. My Dad will talk to anyone, and finally he finds a person who he REALLY could talk to, and he seriously was hiding from her for the rest of the trip. He'd go out to the hammock and appear back in the room pretty quickly...due to the crazy lady's comments about her alleged alma mater. At one point she was reading a book on the Mayans and said to my dad, "Ya know, I had a history teacher at Pali who really inspired me to learn about the Mayans...he was just really inspiring to me..." My Dad goes, "Oh, was it Mr. So and So? or Mr. Blah blah blah?" Crazy Lady, "Oh...I don't remember his name...but he was such an inspiration." Riiiiight. We just chalked it up to having done too many drugs in the 70's. (The lady, not my dad, to clarify.)
One really cool thing about Honduras is what they do for Easter weekend. Interestingly, their big day is not Easter, it's Good Friday. Everyone has the day off, nothing is open, no buses run, etc, etc. The town works all day and night creating this awesome street art made of sawdust and paint. Frist they coat the entire street with sawdust and then they create these intricate and incredibly vibrant paintings of all things God, Jesus, Mary, Thou Shalt, Thou Shalt Not, and other such things you'd relate to Catholicism. It was really cool...completely different than what we do up North. In fact I was telling my students the other day about the Easter Bunny. They thought it was so silly.
The street art...
Had I listened to my American-living-in-Honduras gut, I would have known that we should just take this art display for what it is and not try and get anything out of it. Unfortunately, this did not happen. We happened to run into one of my students around 6:30pm and I asked good ol Eduardo Ernesto what time the festivities were happening tonight. I didn't really know what the festitvities were, but I knew something was supposed to happen involving the art and the church. He said that he thought it was starting around 7:30pm. So, Mom and I decided to do some souvenier shopping while we waited while smart Pops went back to the hotel. Well, we finish our shopping around 7:45ish and there is still no sign of anything happening. I'm sure it'll start soon...so we plop our selves down on the side of the street. A half hour passes and I start talking to some cute boys from Montana. They'd been there since about 5:30pm. Oh Americans, we're so stupid. At least they were fun to talk to. Unfortunately, a couple of people ended up sitting in between us and them and ended that convo pretty quick-like. Sooo...8:45, 9:00 come around. Still nothing. More people are beginning to gather, but NOTHING IS HAPPENING. It was one of those situations where you've already waited so long, you can't leave now. We should have. We definitely should have. Because finally, when something started, it was SO WAH WAH. It was 10 minutes maximum of 3 guys talking in Spanish about only God knows what....probably himself. One of those moments in my life where I thought...wow...what I could have done with those 3 hours of my life. Oh well. Mom got a little taste for and I was once again reminded how things work in Honduras. I need those reminders now and again to not trust Hondurans when it comes to time, directions, or general knowledge of what is going on.
Mom comments on the NON happenings...
Our next and final stop was my humble abode in good ol Santa Rosa. It was great to show the 'rents a bit of a day in the life. Of course, as I predicted we came home to about 20-30 dead cockroaches and 10+ live ones. Fun! See: Sarah Bug Huntin Video. The best part about Santa Rosa though was the climate. I seriously could not have picked a better place to live. The weather is very Northern Californian here. Hardly ever gets unbareably hot, and when it does, it's only for a week or so. For example, right now it is raining cats and dogs outside, and tomorrow it'll be a nice 75ish degrees. Definitely a nice change from the hot as balls rest of Honduras.
Our first full day in Santa Rosa we walked around a bit and went to tour the local cigar factory. And by tour I mean you knock on the big iron door and ask if you can be taken around. It's not the Jelly Belly tour I was used to, but it was SOOOOO cool. We started in the room where they were drying the tobacco and oh my goodness we could hardly breathe. They gave us those doctor masks (you know the ones everyone is wearing in Mexico) The fumes, I guess that's what they were, were outrageously strong. I don't know how people are working in that atmosphere. Well, I know how, but it certainly isn't healthy. This guy took us all around the factory and we saw every step in making a hand rolled cigar. I wish I could have taken pictures, but we weren't allowed. I did snag one though...muhaha. These workers were moving so quickly it was so incredible. Such an art I tell you. The place employees about 1,000 people in the town and I think makes something like 75,000 cigars a DAAAAAY! What??? Crazy, right? All hand done. I am not a cigar smoker, but for all of those of you who are, be sure to appreciate the work that went into it next time you light up. One of the coolest things I've seen while down here.
In the Flor de Copan cigar factory...dried tobacco
Tuesday I had to go back to school and the parents joined in on the fun. They told stories of my embarassing childhood and gave out homemade rice krispy treats...needless to say, the kids enjoyed it. My parents said I have authority in the classroom...so that's good to know. Though, I'm sure the kids were just being good because the parents were present.
*side note* We took a hike in the mountains around Santa Rosa last Saturday with the 11th and 10th graders for their P.E. class. Abby was talking to some of the 11th graders saying how she wishes she could have gotten to teach them this year. To which, one of my students replied, "No you don't. Miss Sarah wants to kill us sometimes." hahaha...ain't it the TRUTH! *end side note*
After that...well, it was time for Mom and Dad to leave. Abby, Chris, and I took them to Cherros, our favorite hole in the wall on their last night. Good times were had by all of course. It was hard to say goodbye, but I knew I'd be seeing them again soon. Seriously, them coming down here has given me such renewed energy that I can really finish this year out strong. I really can't wait to be back home though. And Joey is going to UCDAVIS! I'm so proud! The Miller fam all together again in good ol Nor Cal. PRECIOUS.
P.S. See all the pics from the trip....
My facebook album
Mom's Flicker Pics
Monday, April 27, 2009
The Laughing Parrot
I completely forgot about this video up until I started writing about my time in Costa Rica over Christmas vacation. Let me set the scene....
We were staying in this motel type thing that was attached to a family's home. Right next to our room lived a crazy, senile parrot who would sporadically go on talking/chirping/squawking fits. We decided to go talk to it, and my friends, it did not disappoint. As you all know, parrots can repeat what human voices say. Though they don't always do it on command, they definitely have the ability. Well as I began to laugh at this absurd creature, it began to imitate my laugh. Phil Brazell in Hampton's English class has nothing on this parrot! (That was for you Caroline.)
It was too dark to actually seeee anything, but the sound is all you need. There are times you can't even figure out which one of us was laughing. Obviously his imitation spawned even more laughter from me, resulting in laughter mayhem. Make sure your volume is up and enjoy!
P.S. The Laughing Parrot will TOTALLY be the name of my Central American hostel!! YES! (Confused? see two posts ago.)
We were staying in this motel type thing that was attached to a family's home. Right next to our room lived a crazy, senile parrot who would sporadically go on talking/chirping/squawking fits. We decided to go talk to it, and my friends, it did not disappoint. As you all know, parrots can repeat what human voices say. Though they don't always do it on command, they definitely have the ability. Well as I began to laugh at this absurd creature, it began to imitate my laugh. Phil Brazell in Hampton's English class has nothing on this parrot! (That was for you Caroline.)
It was too dark to actually seeee anything, but the sound is all you need. There are times you can't even figure out which one of us was laughing. Obviously his imitation spawned even more laughter from me, resulting in laughter mayhem. Make sure your volume is up and enjoy!
P.S. The Laughing Parrot will TOTALLY be the name of my Central American hostel!! YES! (Confused? see two posts ago.)
Prostitutes and Sushi!
As you will probably recall my last passport visa renewal session was not that enjoyable. In fact, it was probably the worst experience I have had during my time here. To refresh your memory I’ll just say- El Salvador, border guards, falsifying documents, bribing, yelling, sweat and tears.
Fortunately, the second time around provided us with a much better adventure. The school paid for us to fly to Costa Rica and stay in the capital, San Jose, for three days at a fine establishment with a very Central American name and aire…The Best Western. (Sarcasm) It was the first time in a long time that I had been in such an American hotel. When I look back at the range of places Abby and I have stayed on our travels it is quite humorous. The last time we were in Costa Rica we stayed in this “motel” whose mattresses felt like a wooden board and had cockroaches in the bathroom. We're just movin on up!! (Think Jeffersons theme song…to the east side!) But my favorite was the highly typical bed quilts at The Best Western. You know what I’m talking about…and even though they aren’t normally thought of as anything special, they gave me such a feeling of home and comfort and convenience…the latter two being much harder to come by down here than in the good ol U.S.
Funny part about our hotel though was its central location in what would be known as the Red Light District anywhere else. Druggies, prostitutes, and brothels were on every street and corner. An entertaining and cringe worthy walk during the day, a purely terrifying walk at night. (I never walked at night, don’t worry.)
Though we did some cool stuff while in Costa Rica, the best part was definitely the “all expenses paid” detail. And we missed 3 days of school. Yeah, I’ll take that. Our first full day there we opted for a tour of Volcano Arenal which, unbeknownst to me was really really far away.
I won’t go into detail because I was sort of annoyed with our guide and our tour but all you have to know is I saw a Volcano and it was pretty sweet looking. Though, I have to say, there was no lava to be seen…of which, and Abby can vouch, I was quite upset about. Volcano. Lava. You’d think the two would go hand in hand. No such luck. Funny enough, the best part of our little Volcano tour had nothing to do with the Volcano but rather this little town in which we stopped for a little bit. It had the most random Parque Central in the history of Central America. The entire park was full of those shrub/bush/tree things that people cut into different shapes, you know? See pictures, they will explain…
Our driver dropped us off here for as long as we wanted, and Abby and I sure made the most of it. We were LOVING this place. We took a picture with pretty much every tree-plant shrub in the park. Prompts galore my friends. If you know what that means, you win a cookie. Not to mention had our attempt at about 20 “jumping” shots each. You know the kind, where you try to get a picture with you jumping in the air...High School Musical style. And if you have ever done this you know it never happens the first, second, third, or fourth time. My all time favorite was when Abby did a running start to her jumping and she definitely definitely fell flat on her face. I was cracking up. HI-LAR-IOUS. Two 20-something year olds acting like 5 year olds. Definite highlight of the trip.
The other highlight however came our last night in San Jose. One of the missionary families in Santa Rosa used to live in SJ and told us some of the stuff we should check out, one attraction being the VIP Movie Theatre. Imagine this: big screen, normal theatre, BUT with leather recliners at every seat, a table, and a waiter to take your order at your beck and call, oh and wait for it- SUSHI! Sushi!? Susshhiiii!?!?! If I had to guess, I would say Organizational Studies is more present in Honduras than sushi is, and we all know that’s not saying much. See what sacrifices I have been making these past 8 months!? The sushi-movie-leather recliner experience was amazing. Abby and I were actually, 100% in heaven. Oh, not to mention, our ticket cost us the equivalent of 8 bucks. Riiiight? Ridic. My only wish was that we had gone earlier during the trip so we could have gone back another time.
Gotta say though, it was nice to be back in our little Santa Rosa town. Every time I go somewhere I feel happy to be back “home.” I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like in 7 weeks when I am really really reallllllyyy back home. Eeeeee!
Fortunately, the second time around provided us with a much better adventure. The school paid for us to fly to Costa Rica and stay in the capital, San Jose, for three days at a fine establishment with a very Central American name and aire…The Best Western. (Sarcasm) It was the first time in a long time that I had been in such an American hotel. When I look back at the range of places Abby and I have stayed on our travels it is quite humorous. The last time we were in Costa Rica we stayed in this “motel” whose mattresses felt like a wooden board and had cockroaches in the bathroom. We're just movin on up!! (Think Jeffersons theme song…to the east side!) But my favorite was the highly typical bed quilts at The Best Western. You know what I’m talking about…and even though they aren’t normally thought of as anything special, they gave me such a feeling of home and comfort and convenience…the latter two being much harder to come by down here than in the good ol U.S.
Funny part about our hotel though was its central location in what would be known as the Red Light District anywhere else. Druggies, prostitutes, and brothels were on every street and corner. An entertaining and cringe worthy walk during the day, a purely terrifying walk at night. (I never walked at night, don’t worry.)
Though we did some cool stuff while in Costa Rica, the best part was definitely the “all expenses paid” detail. And we missed 3 days of school. Yeah, I’ll take that. Our first full day there we opted for a tour of Volcano Arenal which, unbeknownst to me was really really far away.
Arenal around sunset.
I won’t go into detail because I was sort of annoyed with our guide and our tour but all you have to know is I saw a Volcano and it was pretty sweet looking. Though, I have to say, there was no lava to be seen…of which, and Abby can vouch, I was quite upset about. Volcano. Lava. You’d think the two would go hand in hand. No such luck. Funny enough, the best part of our little Volcano tour had nothing to do with the Volcano but rather this little town in which we stopped for a little bit. It had the most random Parque Central in the history of Central America. The entire park was full of those shrub/bush/tree things that people cut into different shapes, you know? See pictures, they will explain…
Me and Mr. Dino
WTF is thaaat?
Our driver dropped us off here for as long as we wanted, and Abby and I sure made the most of it. We were LOVING this place. We took a picture with pretty much every tree-plant shrub in the park. Prompts galore my friends. If you know what that means, you win a cookie. Not to mention had our attempt at about 20 “jumping” shots each. You know the kind, where you try to get a picture with you jumping in the air...High School Musical style. And if you have ever done this you know it never happens the first, second, third, or fourth time. My all time favorite was when Abby did a running start to her jumping and she definitely definitely fell flat on her face. I was cracking up. HI-LAR-IOUS. Two 20-something year olds acting like 5 year olds. Definite highlight of the trip.
Abby jumping!
Sarah jumping!
Abby FALLING. Hahaaaaa.
The other highlight however came our last night in San Jose. One of the missionary families in Santa Rosa used to live in SJ and told us some of the stuff we should check out, one attraction being the VIP Movie Theatre. Imagine this: big screen, normal theatre, BUT with leather recliners at every seat, a table, and a waiter to take your order at your beck and call, oh and wait for it- SUSHI! Sushi!? Susshhiiii!?!?! If I had to guess, I would say Organizational Studies is more present in Honduras than sushi is, and we all know that’s not saying much. See what sacrifices I have been making these past 8 months!? The sushi-movie-leather recliner experience was amazing. Abby and I were actually, 100% in heaven. Oh, not to mention, our ticket cost us the equivalent of 8 bucks. Riiiight? Ridic. My only wish was that we had gone earlier during the trip so we could have gone back another time.
Gotta say though, it was nice to be back in our little Santa Rosa town. Every time I go somewhere I feel happy to be back “home.” I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like in 7 weeks when I am really really reallllllyyy back home. Eeeeee!
Friday, April 24, 2009
Copan Ruinas Sin Las Ruinas
It was my third time going to Copan Ruinas but this time I opted out of actually visiting the ruins. They are cool and all, but they don’t really change. Not to mention my parents were coming a couple of weeks later, and my parents would definitely be having that on their itinerary.
A friend of Dani’s was visiting from Minnesoooooota so, of course, anytime there is a vistitor, we go to the ruins. I never fail at having a good time while in Copan Ruinas. In fact, I almost always excel wonderfully. This time was no exception. Abby, our friend Molly, and I bused it to Copan Friday after school, definitely catching a pretty typical Honduras bus there. We were standing about half of the time during our trip, and then- and this ALWAYS happens- some random person always pulls out a random stool or chair thing from God knows where. They may not be safe or organized, but they always seem to be prepared with extra seating. I don't even begin to second guess it anymore. These buses are so funny. I know I’ve explained them before, but I don’t even think about the ridiculousness of them now. Same with riding in the back of a pick up truck- doesn’t even phase me. Abby always talks about how she loves riding in pickup trucks. I gotta agree. I wasn’t really a fan prior to living in Central America, probably because I’d never really done it. But it’s just the wind in your hair, fresh air, and I’m without a care. (At first I put ‘and good times’ but clearly I had to make it rhyme. Ah! I did it again!) It’s also especially nice in Santa Rosa. We have cobble stone streets as I’m sure I’ve mentioned, so people really can’t drive too fast. Eases this safety nut’s mind a little.
Annnnnyyyywwwaaaayyy…there I go, tangenting… So, us three girls met up with Dani and her friend, Brenna. We stayed at Manzana Verde hostel.
Side note: The names of Central American hostels are taaannn predictable. They usually involve a color and or animal and are always two words. See below:
Manzana Verde -- Green Apple, Copan Ruinas
Iguana Azul – Blue Iguana, Copan Ruinas
Gato Negro – Black Cat, Antigua, Guatemala
Mono Barbado – Bearded Monkey, Granada, Nicaragua
Funny.
Manzana Verde was lovely, though it only had 3 bathrooms…for like 25 people. Wah wah. That night we had dinner and indulged in some fabulous and much needed girl talk. 5 American Girls in Par- I mean Copan. Naturally, after our dinner we headed over to our regular spot- The Red Frog. Owner Dan and his partner in crime, Rob greeted us happily, helping us start out our night with some beers and some pong. As the other foreigners shuffled in throughout the night, we met some nice folks from Denmark, New Zealand, Holland, and the U.S. Once again- the coolest thing about traveling is meeting people from all over the world and hearing their stories...of which mine are quite tame in comparison. I really hope I can come back down here one day and just travel with no sense of responsibility. We’re always on these weekend trips with school coming up on us in a couple of days. These folks are just living life, going wherever the wind takes them.
Our beer pong games were a hit, though I just observed most of the time. Foreigners learning to play beer pong is classic, there was definitely a 6-8 person game going on at one point. Balls were sunk, beer was drank, and the night was merry. Next came our favorite walk to Papa Changos. When all the bars are closed, Papa Changos is the place to be. If you will recall, the last time we were at PC’s was for the crazy Peace Corps Halloween party. Not only was it a crazy fun time, but there were SWINGS as bar stools. I am sure I made a very big deal of this in my blog post of that weekend, because it was so cool. Well, I think it is safe to say that Papa Changos has committed business suicide as they have gotten rid of their bar stool swings. Disappointment is an understatement. Lame dumb lame lame dumb. Regardless though, there was music, and I was dancing, so the night definitely came to a fun close. After we left the bar, we returned to the pitch black hostel. Abby gave me her headlamp to brush my teeth. It was ridiculously amusing...but probably only to us, so I'll spare you the details.
The next day we awoke and had an excellent tipica breakfast. I am really going to miss that tipica food. Mmmhmmm. It sure is yummy. Over that same Halloween weekend, Dani and some friends ventured to this very out of the way waterfall outside of Copan. Usually people go with a guide, but it’s not really necessary if you know where you are going. However, knowing where you are going isn’t like finding Toon Town in Disneyland. No maps, no signs, no people to ask on the way. In fact, these are the directions that Cid gave Dani the first time…
"Get off the bus at the gas station, across the street there is a dirt road, hike the road for about 20ish minutes, then you'll see some pillars and a pasture, walk through the pasture a little ways, then look for some rocks with a bridge nearby, cross the bridge, climb over some rocks, swim in the river, and there's your waterfall!"
Somehow, she found it. Twice in fact. The hike wasn’t too bad and once we got to the pasture we just had to search for a rickety bridge to cross. We finally found it and went over one at a time…seemed (and was) a smart idea. After the bridge the sound of the waterfall was very close and we knew we were almost there.
At this point, we stripped down to our bathing suits and very apprehensively got into the FREEZING water. It was so cold and unfortunately the day was not that hot. Had it been a few weeks later when I was dying from the heat in Copan with my parents, it would have been really refreshing. So we get into the water and climb over some rocks and low and behold we are legitimately in the waterfall. What was especially cool is that Dani said the first time she went, the water was so high that they couldn’t get very close. This time, we were all up in that waterfall’s business, I tell you what. Abby, being the stud she was, even waded the entire time with her hands above her head in order to take some awesome pictures of us. Her skills were quite impressive.
The waterfall was beautiful and so strong. We tried to swim underneath it but the current was way too fuerte. Afterwards we just sat on a big rock and sort of talked, sort of didn’t. I think we were all kind of thinking, wow, our lives are pretty damn cool. Of course I have my hard days where I just want to go home, but then I do something like that and I know I've made the right decision.
A friend of Dani’s was visiting from Minnesoooooota so, of course, anytime there is a vistitor, we go to the ruins. I never fail at having a good time while in Copan Ruinas. In fact, I almost always excel wonderfully. This time was no exception. Abby, our friend Molly, and I bused it to Copan Friday after school, definitely catching a pretty typical Honduras bus there. We were standing about half of the time during our trip, and then- and this ALWAYS happens- some random person always pulls out a random stool or chair thing from God knows where. They may not be safe or organized, but they always seem to be prepared with extra seating. I don't even begin to second guess it anymore. These buses are so funny. I know I’ve explained them before, but I don’t even think about the ridiculousness of them now. Same with riding in the back of a pick up truck- doesn’t even phase me. Abby always talks about how she loves riding in pickup trucks. I gotta agree. I wasn’t really a fan prior to living in Central America, probably because I’d never really done it. But it’s just the wind in your hair, fresh air, and I’m without a care. (At first I put ‘and good times’ but clearly I had to make it rhyme. Ah! I did it again!) It’s also especially nice in Santa Rosa. We have cobble stone streets as I’m sure I’ve mentioned, so people really can’t drive too fast. Eases this safety nut’s mind a little.
Annnnnyyyywwwaaaayyy…there I go, tangenting… So, us three girls met up with Dani and her friend, Brenna. We stayed at Manzana Verde hostel.
Side note: The names of Central American hostels are taaannn predictable. They usually involve a color and or animal and are always two words. See below:
Manzana Verde -- Green Apple, Copan Ruinas
Iguana Azul – Blue Iguana, Copan Ruinas
Gato Negro – Black Cat, Antigua, Guatemala
Mono Barbado – Bearded Monkey, Granada, Nicaragua
Funny.
Manzana Verde was lovely, though it only had 3 bathrooms…for like 25 people. Wah wah. That night we had dinner and indulged in some fabulous and much needed girl talk. 5 American Girls in Par- I mean Copan. Naturally, after our dinner we headed over to our regular spot- The Red Frog. Owner Dan and his partner in crime, Rob greeted us happily, helping us start out our night with some beers and some pong. As the other foreigners shuffled in throughout the night, we met some nice folks from Denmark, New Zealand, Holland, and the U.S. Once again- the coolest thing about traveling is meeting people from all over the world and hearing their stories...of which mine are quite tame in comparison. I really hope I can come back down here one day and just travel with no sense of responsibility. We’re always on these weekend trips with school coming up on us in a couple of days. These folks are just living life, going wherever the wind takes them.
Our beer pong games were a hit, though I just observed most of the time. Foreigners learning to play beer pong is classic, there was definitely a 6-8 person game going on at one point. Balls were sunk, beer was drank, and the night was merry. Next came our favorite walk to Papa Changos. When all the bars are closed, Papa Changos is the place to be. If you will recall, the last time we were at PC’s was for the crazy Peace Corps Halloween party. Not only was it a crazy fun time, but there were SWINGS as bar stools. I am sure I made a very big deal of this in my blog post of that weekend, because it was so cool. Well, I think it is safe to say that Papa Changos has committed business suicide as they have gotten rid of their bar stool swings. Disappointment is an understatement. Lame dumb lame lame dumb. Regardless though, there was music, and I was dancing, so the night definitely came to a fun close. After we left the bar, we returned to the pitch black hostel. Abby gave me her headlamp to brush my teeth. It was ridiculously amusing...but probably only to us, so I'll spare you the details.
4-person team beer pong...this is a great picture.
Outside of Papa Changos rubbin the monkey for good luck?
The next day we awoke and had an excellent tipica breakfast. I am really going to miss that tipica food. Mmmhmmm. It sure is yummy. Over that same Halloween weekend, Dani and some friends ventured to this very out of the way waterfall outside of Copan. Usually people go with a guide, but it’s not really necessary if you know where you are going. However, knowing where you are going isn’t like finding Toon Town in Disneyland. No maps, no signs, no people to ask on the way. In fact, these are the directions that Cid gave Dani the first time…
"Get off the bus at the gas station, across the street there is a dirt road, hike the road for about 20ish minutes, then you'll see some pillars and a pasture, walk through the pasture a little ways, then look for some rocks with a bridge nearby, cross the bridge, climb over some rocks, swim in the river, and there's your waterfall!"
Somehow, she found it. Twice in fact. The hike wasn’t too bad and once we got to the pasture we just had to search for a rickety bridge to cross. We finally found it and went over one at a time…seemed (and was) a smart idea. After the bridge the sound of the waterfall was very close and we knew we were almost there.
Scary bridge...it just screams Central America.
At this point, we stripped down to our bathing suits and very apprehensively got into the FREEZING water. It was so cold and unfortunately the day was not that hot. Had it been a few weeks later when I was dying from the heat in Copan with my parents, it would have been really refreshing. So we get into the water and climb over some rocks and low and behold we are legitimately in the waterfall. What was especially cool is that Dani said the first time she went, the water was so high that they couldn’t get very close. This time, we were all up in that waterfall’s business, I tell you what. Abby, being the stud she was, even waded the entire time with her hands above her head in order to take some awesome pictures of us. Her skills were quite impressive.
The girls at the base of the waterfall!
La Cascada
The waterfall was beautiful and so strong. We tried to swim underneath it but the current was way too fuerte. Afterwards we just sat on a big rock and sort of talked, sort of didn’t. I think we were all kind of thinking, wow, our lives are pretty damn cool. Of course I have my hard days where I just want to go home, but then I do something like that and I know I've made the right decision.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
This Ain't No Kinkos
Oh the allure of the copy machine. While all of you can easily walk into any of your neighborhood photo copy joints, Kinkos, Dollar Bill, Office Depot and make copies by the thousands if you want to, I, my friends, have no such luxury.
In Honduras, the copy machine is akin to a rocket ship or a highly complicated brain surgery. Only the experts are allowed to touch, use, and make copies. By the way they treat the copy machine, especially at my school, you'd think that Miss Secretaria Berta had to go to special photocopy school and obtain a government certified license before being allowed to make copies.
I really don't understand. Like, I just. don't. understand. For one thing, if I want something copied for that day, there is a fat chance I am going to get it. The other morning I asked Miss Julie if I could have 16 copies made for that afternoon. We're talking a minimum of 3 hours later. Now, I understand that I probably shouldn't ask people do make copies the day I want to use them. (God forbid I come up with something I want to hand out the next day in class.) Julie was like, "today?" and I said, "yeah" and she said, simply, "oooh..no, I don't think so." Ohhh my...16 copies? 3 hours? Oye gosh...I know I'm asking a lot. Considering it probably takes a total of 1 minute to make this happen. But, I just said, "okay, I'll just use the handout tomorrow" and went on my merry way. And by merry way, I mean walked into the teacher's lounge and complained to Abby.
The other thing is though that some days, Miss Berta isn't here. For example, she was out for a week when her mother was sick. You would think, just think, maybe just a glimmer of thinking, that perhaps, someone else would take our tests that needed to be photocopied and um...photocopy them? Well, when I went to get my test copies that week, as in I had a test that day that students had studied for, there were no copies to be had. Right. Cause that makes perfect sense. I asked Julie what was up and she was like, "Well Miss Berta isn't here...soooo...." Soooo...what? I don't give my test? You can make the copies? Is Miss Berta the only one who knows how to use the copy machine? Come to find out, yes, as a matter of fact she is. Now, I don't know where this idea that the copy machine is a total enigma came from, but it is certainly there, with everyone at that school. So then I asked Julie, "Can I maybe try and make copies?" She looked at me with such surprise and shock, "You...you...you think you can do it?" Hmm...well, in short, "Yes." It was as if I told her I could solve a rubix cube in 2 minutes flat.
Honduras, I tell ya. It's a hoot.
In Honduras, the copy machine is akin to a rocket ship or a highly complicated brain surgery. Only the experts are allowed to touch, use, and make copies. By the way they treat the copy machine, especially at my school, you'd think that Miss Secretaria Berta had to go to special photocopy school and obtain a government certified license before being allowed to make copies.
I really don't understand. Like, I just. don't. understand. For one thing, if I want something copied for that day, there is a fat chance I am going to get it. The other morning I asked Miss Julie if I could have 16 copies made for that afternoon. We're talking a minimum of 3 hours later. Now, I understand that I probably shouldn't ask people do make copies the day I want to use them. (God forbid I come up with something I want to hand out the next day in class.) Julie was like, "today?" and I said, "yeah" and she said, simply, "oooh..no, I don't think so." Ohhh my...16 copies? 3 hours? Oye gosh...I know I'm asking a lot. Considering it probably takes a total of 1 minute to make this happen. But, I just said, "okay, I'll just use the handout tomorrow" and went on my merry way. And by merry way, I mean walked into the teacher's lounge and complained to Abby.
The other thing is though that some days, Miss Berta isn't here. For example, she was out for a week when her mother was sick. You would think, just think, maybe just a glimmer of thinking, that perhaps, someone else would take our tests that needed to be photocopied and um...photocopy them? Well, when I went to get my test copies that week, as in I had a test that day that students had studied for, there were no copies to be had. Right. Cause that makes perfect sense. I asked Julie what was up and she was like, "Well Miss Berta isn't here...soooo...." Soooo...what? I don't give my test? You can make the copies? Is Miss Berta the only one who knows how to use the copy machine? Come to find out, yes, as a matter of fact she is. Now, I don't know where this idea that the copy machine is a total enigma came from, but it is certainly there, with everyone at that school. So then I asked Julie, "Can I maybe try and make copies?" She looked at me with such surprise and shock, "You...you...you think you can do it?" Hmm...well, in short, "Yes." It was as if I told her I could solve a rubix cube in 2 minutes flat.
Honduras, I tell ya. It's a hoot.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
One Thing I WILL Miss
Tears, legitimate tears are streaming down my face. I'm not sad, or overly happy, just have some major pain due to the stingy of my eyes. My nose is running and I have to take a time out from my cooking to go to the bathroom to get a tissue...or five. Yes, I am cooking. No I did not burn myself or anything, I am simply cooking with the freshest vegetables I will probably ever have in my life. The stars in tonight's dish are onions, plain 'ol regular white onions that I've cooked with lots of times in the U.S.. I swear that cutting onions has never hurt me so much. I'm not kidding when I say I look like I've just been at a funeral. One slice of that knife and my tear ducts start going loco. But in those tears of stingy eye pain are a few tears of happiness because I am about to eat yet another amazing meal of farm fresh veggies.
The kicker being, their price. The market usually charges less than 100 lempira for a whole bundle full of vegetables. We're talking your green and red peppers, onions, potatoes, carrots, oranges, limes, cucumber; whatever the recipe calls for. I usually buy 3 avacados at the local market for I think 18 lempira? Can that be right? Meaning, one avacado is 6 lempira aka about 25 cents. Have I ever mentioned how much I love avacados. Guacemole is one of those foods that I will eat no matter if I am filled up to maximum capacity. There are few other foods that have this hold over me: pie (apple, pumpkin, banana cream), warm, homemade chocolate chip cookies, mashed potatoes, tollhouse cookie ice cream sandwich (preferably at an A's baseball game) and guacemole.
Now, growing up in California I have definitely seen some fresh fruit in my day. But even in California it can be difficult to find the perfect avacado, ripe and ready to go upon purchase. Often they are too hard, too soft, or too expensive. And Michigan and New York? Forget about your guacemole. Probably the reason the Mexican food is subpar there as well.
But I digress...
Bottom line: Central America=good produce. Every day our taxi takes us by the market...really close to our house actually. Admist the hunks of meat being carried around in a wheel barrow and farmers setting up shop, you see a rainbow of tropical fruit and vegetables coming in from the country by the truck loads.
It's definitely something that will be missed upon my return. I think I'll have to stay in California for a little while at least, just to ween myself off of the fresh produce. And now, if you excuse me, I'm off to eat mi cena deliciosa. Buen Provecho!
The kicker being, their price. The market usually charges less than 100 lempira for a whole bundle full of vegetables. We're talking your green and red peppers, onions, potatoes, carrots, oranges, limes, cucumber; whatever the recipe calls for. I usually buy 3 avacados at the local market for I think 18 lempira? Can that be right? Meaning, one avacado is 6 lempira aka about 25 cents. Have I ever mentioned how much I love avacados. Guacemole is one of those foods that I will eat no matter if I am filled up to maximum capacity. There are few other foods that have this hold over me: pie (apple, pumpkin, banana cream), warm, homemade chocolate chip cookies, mashed potatoes, tollhouse cookie ice cream sandwich (preferably at an A's baseball game) and guacemole.
Now, growing up in California I have definitely seen some fresh fruit in my day. But even in California it can be difficult to find the perfect avacado, ripe and ready to go upon purchase. Often they are too hard, too soft, or too expensive. And Michigan and New York? Forget about your guacemole. Probably the reason the Mexican food is subpar there as well.
But I digress...
Bottom line: Central America=good produce. Every day our taxi takes us by the market...really close to our house actually. Admist the hunks of meat being carried around in a wheel barrow and farmers setting up shop, you see a rainbow of tropical fruit and vegetables coming in from the country by the truck loads.
It's definitely something that will be missed upon my return. I think I'll have to stay in California for a little while at least, just to ween myself off of the fresh produce. And now, if you excuse me, I'm off to eat mi cena deliciosa. Buen Provecho!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Guest Appearance : The Sex
Abby gave a sex talk to 7th grade last week. Naturally, it provided an amusing Abby in Honduras blog post. She's my celebrity guest this post. Read, laugh, enjoy, and pay special attention to the grammar of the anonymous questions...that's my favorite part.
The Sex
Nothing like the topic of sex to motivate me to write on my blog again. So, I decided that 7th grade needed to have a little sex education. Honduras is still a very closed society when it comes to sex. Most people still feel that you lose your virginity if you put in a tampon! Obviously, the kids have never had someone speak openly, directly, and without embarrassment to them about sex. Their 13 year old ears perked up, like puppies hearing food poured in a bowl, as soon as they heard that forbidden word: SEX. The class that can't sit still, the class that never shuts up, the class that never listens, sat down, shut up, and listened. It was truly amazing.
I started by giving them a 40 minute lecture on condoms, STDs, pregnancy, you know, the usual. I told them to go home and write, anonymously, any more questions they had about sex, and I would answer them the next day in class.
The next day, I didn't have class with them until the end of school. During morning assembly, during both recesses, and as soon as I walked into class that afternoon I had swarms of 7th graders making sure I was going to give the charla (talk) that day about sex. I went around the classroom and collected all their questions. Seriously, how can I describe their eager faces? Eyes excited, but faces nervous. A little embarrassed, yet anxiously awaiting the answer to their most forbidden of questions. Afraid to be interested, but unable to hide their interest. And, as they told me later, amazed at the directness with which I would speak about this taboo subject, (thank you Santa Cruz and Juliana Molina for this ability).
Let me assure you that I answered all questions to the best of my ability and at an appropriate level for 13 year olds. Their questions were particularly hilarious because their English isn't very good, so the way they asked the questions were funny. Here, for your enjoyment, are some of the questions I received (I'll put my own translation of the question in brackets if I think you won't understand what they meant. I've left all spelling mistakes intact):
It was really cool to see how comfortable they were with me. At the beginning of the talk, the vice principal sat in the classroom, and the kids wouldn't ask me anything after I answered some of the questions. They don't trust the vice principal at all. As soon as the vice principal left I was bombarded with more questions they had thought of. Having anonymous letters was a good way to start the discussion, to get past their embarrassment, but in the end, we didn't need anything to be anonymous. It was obvious that they felt my classroom was a safe place for them to ask anything they wanted. Especially given the cultural climate here and the idea ingrained in them that you shouldn't talk about sex, I was really happy that they were able to open up so much and asked so many more questions than were originally on their anonymous sheets. I have completely failed in classroom control, but I have been able to create a safe environment for them, which to me is more important than them behaving during class.
Hopefully these kids will have safe, happy sex when they're ready. And I hope they remember that women enjoy sex. They didn't seem to know that this was possible...
The Sex
Nothing like the topic of sex to motivate me to write on my blog again. So, I decided that 7th grade needed to have a little sex education. Honduras is still a very closed society when it comes to sex. Most people still feel that you lose your virginity if you put in a tampon! Obviously, the kids have never had someone speak openly, directly, and without embarrassment to them about sex. Their 13 year old ears perked up, like puppies hearing food poured in a bowl, as soon as they heard that forbidden word: SEX. The class that can't sit still, the class that never shuts up, the class that never listens, sat down, shut up, and listened. It was truly amazing.
I started by giving them a 40 minute lecture on condoms, STDs, pregnancy, you know, the usual. I told them to go home and write, anonymously, any more questions they had about sex, and I would answer them the next day in class.
The next day, I didn't have class with them until the end of school. During morning assembly, during both recesses, and as soon as I walked into class that afternoon I had swarms of 7th graders making sure I was going to give the charla (talk) that day about sex. I went around the classroom and collected all their questions. Seriously, how can I describe their eager faces? Eyes excited, but faces nervous. A little embarrassed, yet anxiously awaiting the answer to their most forbidden of questions. Afraid to be interested, but unable to hide their interest. And, as they told me later, amazed at the directness with which I would speak about this taboo subject, (thank you Santa Cruz and Juliana Molina for this ability).
Let me assure you that I answered all questions to the best of my ability and at an appropriate level for 13 year olds. Their questions were particularly hilarious because their English isn't very good, so the way they asked the questions were funny. Here, for your enjoyment, are some of the questions I received (I'll put my own translation of the question in brackets if I think you won't understand what they meant. I've left all spelling mistakes intact):
- When someone masturbate, they have lost they virginity?
- How women feels when do sex?
- Do you are virgen (if we can know) [my translation: Are you a virgin?; my answer: thats a personal question so I'm not going to answer that]
- Can a penis or a comdom explode?
- What is masturbe?
- How the sex start?
- How does a person put a condom in itself (man)? [how does a man put a condom on himself?]
- How can you have twins?
- What happen when a woman is pregnant and she have the sex?
- Does the women likes the men does the sex with she? [Do women like it when men have sex with them.]
- What happen, feels when a women is exited? [What happens and how does it feel when a woman is sexually excited?]
- Why the women faint when have sex? [I seriously have no idea what this kid meant by that]
It was really cool to see how comfortable they were with me. At the beginning of the talk, the vice principal sat in the classroom, and the kids wouldn't ask me anything after I answered some of the questions. They don't trust the vice principal at all. As soon as the vice principal left I was bombarded with more questions they had thought of. Having anonymous letters was a good way to start the discussion, to get past their embarrassment, but in the end, we didn't need anything to be anonymous. It was obvious that they felt my classroom was a safe place for them to ask anything they wanted. Especially given the cultural climate here and the idea ingrained in them that you shouldn't talk about sex, I was really happy that they were able to open up so much and asked so many more questions than were originally on their anonymous sheets. I have completely failed in classroom control, but I have been able to create a safe environment for them, which to me is more important than them behaving during class.
Hopefully these kids will have safe, happy sex when they're ready. And I hope they remember that women enjoy sex. They didn't seem to know that this was possible...
Saturday, March 7, 2009
It's Been a While
Well, I was determined to not be one of those bloggers who never updates their blog, but alas I fear I have become one.
Part of the reason for this is probably because living in Honduras hasn't been much of a novelty lately and while I know my every day is probably pretty different from your hum drum lives (kidding!), it's just become life and I've sort of settled into it.
Settled in, but perhaps not with total happiness or confidence; another reason that I probably haven't written in a while. I've been going through a bit of a "I miss home a lot" phase and a "not feeling like myself" period, with a "I suck at Spanish" attitude. Fortunately for you, I won't talk about that much because today is a good day and I'm feeling good about being here in the big H. Just know, that as cool as this experience has been, it hasn't been all peachy. Then again, what is?
Here's a general recap of what I've been doing:
teaching
teaching
sleeping
eating
teaching
teaching
teaching
teaching
sleeping
eating
teaching
Yet another reason why I haven't written...not too interesting. Though, I know I have some funny tales from teacherdom, so I'll try and wrestle up a few.
First of all, a few weeks ago, I gave all my students a "teacher evaluation" so I could kind of see how I was doing, get some good suggestions, understand what I could do better. This was totally foreign to them and they said no teacher had ever done this. Their evaluations were so sweet and it was such a good pick me up. Cause, guess what? I'm a good teacher! They all said such nice things and really made me confident that I was actually doing an okay job. The administration hardly gives us any feedback at all and I am a person who needs positive reinforcement, I have discovered. So, I decided to put it into my own hands. Woohoo!
I still love 10th grade so much. They are just wonderful and make me smile every day. We just finished reading the book, Night, in literature class. They loved it! I mean, it's so sad, but I was so glad to see them all reading and really enjoying a book. Incidentally, there was a presentation about the Holocaust today in town put on by some Jehova Witnesses. We all met for lunch and then went to the presentation. It was so cool to see these kids completely take what they have read and learned and see it reinforced in this museum like setting. Not to mention that this was happening at the same time we were reading the book. Perfect!
11th grade has become my new least favorite class. I am so close to the point of giving up with them. I'm not going to, but they really make my job difficult and I don't know what I can do. I try so hard to do interesting activities and make class varied but they are just so over everything. They only do stuff because they know they have a grade at the end of the quarter. Everything is like pulling teeth. I let them have it a few days ago and really gave them a good ol fashioned teacher lecture. Their respect level is minimal and everytime I go into that class I know its going to be a battle between their laziness and constant side conversations. Last week, they even made me cry. I was just so frustrated with them and I was trying to teach and at one point I looked out at the class and they were all involved in their own little conversations and I was just like "You guys. This is impossible! I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I can teach you. Well, whatever, you guys can just figure out the rest on your own." I just walked over to my desk, sat down, and started reading my book. Of course AFTER that they were all like "be quiet be quiet!" and trying to be all respectful and I said "It's not going to do you any good now, just talk all you want, go ahead," in a very snotty yet hurt tone. As I pretended to be really interested in my book for the remaining 15 mintues of class I tried my hardest not to cry. Tears were creeping up but I pushed them back. Finally the bell rang and I booked it out of there. I walked into my wonderful 10th grade classroom and told the kids to listen up for a second. Then I started a "thank you for being respectful, sweet, and it's a joy to teach you" speech. I probably uttered 5 words when the tears started coming. I tried not to cry but I told them what had happened and naturally, because they are wonderful, were so comforting. I suppose I'm officially a teacher now that I have cried. I know I can't take it too personally, I just wish they'd understand that this is not an easy job and treat me with a little bit more respect. Right now we're reading Catcher in the Rye, a book that I know they'd love if they just put a little bit of effort into it. But seeing as it took about 2 weeks for everyone to buy the book (and some still don't even have it) su esfuerzo no existe. Voy a seguir probando pero no será fácil.
Noveno grado es un nuevo favorito de mio. Lately, they have just been so funny. I honestly laugh constantly in that class. Their new thing is to tease me about dating Chris, the former HEM school teacher from England who is MY FRIEND and my friend only. However, they are convinced, or at least like to pretend they are convinced that I like him. It's one of those things that makes no sense and I have no idea where they got the idea from, but every time they mention it I can't help but laugh, smile, and turn red. I swear nothing is going on, but I know I look guilty as hell. They are a funny bunch...just goofy. They used to be one of my least favorites but I don't know, something changed and now we are having a lot of fun together. Marvin and Carlitos are the pair that just crack me up every class. Imagine just the most dangerous of duos as far as distracting their teacher from actually teaching. Carlitos just has a quick-witted, yet stupid sense of humor that makes you laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. Marvin is just always making odd noises in the back of the classroom...don't ask. They could go on vaudeville those two. Last Thursday, Carlitos was telling me his plight of all his school projects and papers he has to accomplish by the next day. He was giving me all his pros and cons and telling me that it was basically impossible for him to get it all done. "I think I'm...I might say a bad word here, sorry if I do, but I'm... screwed!! I'm just screwed! ...sorry was that a bad word, Miss? Yes?" Me: "Well, sort of but, I think it is what you are, a very appropriate usage. You are screwed Carlitos!" "I know! I'm Screwed!! What would you do, Miss, what would you do??" Hehe, it was funny. The girls in that class are just really sweet and super gigglely about anything. Can get a little over the top, but most of the time, I just laugh along.
The 5th graders are growing up I'm afraid. They are getting a little more interested in the opposite sex than they are of spelling words. They've definitely been acting out a little bit and been a little harder to control. However, they still have their good and sweet moments. Melo, one of my favorites keeps translating these Spanish jokes into English for me and it's so funny because first he'll ask me a couple of key words and then tell me the joke.
Melo : "Miss, what do you call a child with no parents?"
Me: "an orphan?"
Melo : "yeah, yeah and what do you call a person that eats humans?"
Me: "umm...like a canibal?"
Melo : "yeah yeah. okay...so Pepito is learning about canibals in class and his teacher asks him Pepito, what is a canibal? And Pepito says, "I don't know." and then the teacher says, "Well, what would you be if you ate your parents?" and Pepito says, "An orphan."
And then he just smiles at me with his adorable smile and his eyes that cross sometimes (hehe) like, "get it?!" haha. Too adorable.
All in all, school is definitely the high light of my days. As much work as it can be, it inevitably always puts a smile on my face. So, I got that goin for me...which is nice. ;)
Part of the reason for this is probably because living in Honduras hasn't been much of a novelty lately and while I know my every day is probably pretty different from your hum drum lives (kidding!), it's just become life and I've sort of settled into it.
Settled in, but perhaps not with total happiness or confidence; another reason that I probably haven't written in a while. I've been going through a bit of a "I miss home a lot" phase and a "not feeling like myself" period, with a "I suck at Spanish" attitude. Fortunately for you, I won't talk about that much because today is a good day and I'm feeling good about being here in the big H. Just know, that as cool as this experience has been, it hasn't been all peachy. Then again, what is?
Here's a general recap of what I've been doing:
teaching
teaching
sleeping
eating
teaching
teaching
teaching
teaching
sleeping
eating
teaching
Yet another reason why I haven't written...not too interesting. Though, I know I have some funny tales from teacherdom, so I'll try and wrestle up a few.
First of all, a few weeks ago, I gave all my students a "teacher evaluation" so I could kind of see how I was doing, get some good suggestions, understand what I could do better. This was totally foreign to them and they said no teacher had ever done this. Their evaluations were so sweet and it was such a good pick me up. Cause, guess what? I'm a good teacher! They all said such nice things and really made me confident that I was actually doing an okay job. The administration hardly gives us any feedback at all and I am a person who needs positive reinforcement, I have discovered. So, I decided to put it into my own hands. Woohoo!
I still love 10th grade so much. They are just wonderful and make me smile every day. We just finished reading the book, Night, in literature class. They loved it! I mean, it's so sad, but I was so glad to see them all reading and really enjoying a book. Incidentally, there was a presentation about the Holocaust today in town put on by some Jehova Witnesses. We all met for lunch and then went to the presentation. It was so cool to see these kids completely take what they have read and learned and see it reinforced in this museum like setting. Not to mention that this was happening at the same time we were reading the book. Perfect!
11th grade has become my new least favorite class. I am so close to the point of giving up with them. I'm not going to, but they really make my job difficult and I don't know what I can do. I try so hard to do interesting activities and make class varied but they are just so over everything. They only do stuff because they know they have a grade at the end of the quarter. Everything is like pulling teeth. I let them have it a few days ago and really gave them a good ol fashioned teacher lecture. Their respect level is minimal and everytime I go into that class I know its going to be a battle between their laziness and constant side conversations. Last week, they even made me cry. I was just so frustrated with them and I was trying to teach and at one point I looked out at the class and they were all involved in their own little conversations and I was just like "You guys. This is impossible! I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I can teach you. Well, whatever, you guys can just figure out the rest on your own." I just walked over to my desk, sat down, and started reading my book. Of course AFTER that they were all like "be quiet be quiet!" and trying to be all respectful and I said "It's not going to do you any good now, just talk all you want, go ahead," in a very snotty yet hurt tone. As I pretended to be really interested in my book for the remaining 15 mintues of class I tried my hardest not to cry. Tears were creeping up but I pushed them back. Finally the bell rang and I booked it out of there. I walked into my wonderful 10th grade classroom and told the kids to listen up for a second. Then I started a "thank you for being respectful, sweet, and it's a joy to teach you" speech. I probably uttered 5 words when the tears started coming. I tried not to cry but I told them what had happened and naturally, because they are wonderful, were so comforting. I suppose I'm officially a teacher now that I have cried. I know I can't take it too personally, I just wish they'd understand that this is not an easy job and treat me with a little bit more respect. Right now we're reading Catcher in the Rye, a book that I know they'd love if they just put a little bit of effort into it. But seeing as it took about 2 weeks for everyone to buy the book (and some still don't even have it) su esfuerzo no existe. Voy a seguir probando pero no será fácil.
Noveno grado es un nuevo favorito de mio. Lately, they have just been so funny. I honestly laugh constantly in that class. Their new thing is to tease me about dating Chris, the former HEM school teacher from England who is MY FRIEND and my friend only. However, they are convinced, or at least like to pretend they are convinced that I like him. It's one of those things that makes no sense and I have no idea where they got the idea from, but every time they mention it I can't help but laugh, smile, and turn red. I swear nothing is going on, but I know I look guilty as hell. They are a funny bunch...just goofy. They used to be one of my least favorites but I don't know, something changed and now we are having a lot of fun together. Marvin and Carlitos are the pair that just crack me up every class. Imagine just the most dangerous of duos as far as distracting their teacher from actually teaching. Carlitos just has a quick-witted, yet stupid sense of humor that makes you laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. Marvin is just always making odd noises in the back of the classroom...don't ask. They could go on vaudeville those two. Last Thursday, Carlitos was telling me his plight of all his school projects and papers he has to accomplish by the next day. He was giving me all his pros and cons and telling me that it was basically impossible for him to get it all done. "I think I'm...I might say a bad word here, sorry if I do, but I'm... screwed!! I'm just screwed! ...sorry was that a bad word, Miss? Yes?" Me: "Well, sort of but, I think it is what you are, a very appropriate usage. You are screwed Carlitos!" "I know! I'm Screwed!! What would you do, Miss, what would you do??" Hehe, it was funny. The girls in that class are just really sweet and super gigglely about anything. Can get a little over the top, but most of the time, I just laugh along.
The 5th graders are growing up I'm afraid. They are getting a little more interested in the opposite sex than they are of spelling words. They've definitely been acting out a little bit and been a little harder to control. However, they still have their good and sweet moments. Melo, one of my favorites keeps translating these Spanish jokes into English for me and it's so funny because first he'll ask me a couple of key words and then tell me the joke.
Melo : "Miss, what do you call a child with no parents?"
Me: "an orphan?"
Melo : "yeah, yeah and what do you call a person that eats humans?"
Me: "umm...like a canibal?"
Melo : "yeah yeah. okay...so Pepito is learning about canibals in class and his teacher asks him Pepito, what is a canibal? And Pepito says, "I don't know." and then the teacher says, "Well, what would you be if you ate your parents?" and Pepito says, "An orphan."
And then he just smiles at me with his adorable smile and his eyes that cross sometimes (hehe) like, "get it?!" haha. Too adorable.
All in all, school is definitely the high light of my days. As much work as it can be, it inevitably always puts a smile on my face. So, I got that goin for me...which is nice. ;)
Friday, February 13, 2009
Hi, I’m Illegal: Part III
After an incredible visit to Semuc Champey, we traveled to Antigua, Guate to see the colonial city that is very popular among tourists. I enjoyed Antigua, really beautiful and very clean. It was interesting to see a place in Central America so catered to tourists. Except for the Bay Islands, Honduras is still trying to figure out the whole tourism thing. They’re getting there, especially in places like Copan Ruinas, but Antigua still has Copan beat. The interesting part though is that many of the B&B’s, hostels and restaurants in Copan are run by foreigners originally from Europe or North America, people who understand the business of tourism and what it takes to make clients happy. Likewise, in Antigua, the hostels were very accommodating, the restaurants had excellent service equipped with a lot of American-friendly meals, and almost everywhere had bilingual workers. Not to mention, souvenir shops upon souvenir shops. I saw so many white people here, it was a little overwhelming. All in all though, it was a great stay and I hope I can return someday. Also- the morning before we left, I had a bagel and cream cheese. GLORIOUS.
The day we left Antigua was one of ease and comfort. We figured out exactly how we would be getting from Guatemala to Nicaragua and had everything all planned out. The plan was to stay in EL Salvador for one night and then continue on to Granada, Nicaragua where we would be for four days. At this point my friend, Brett, had left to go back to the U.S. and it was just the four chicas. The first border we crossed was the Guatemalan exit border. They let us out with no trouble. Abby and I laughed a bit about how absurd our last border experience had been compared to this one. Little did we know that in a few minutes our laughter would be turning to tears. (How melodramatic does that sound?) After our exit border, we were crossing into El Salvador. Note to self: El Salvadorian border guards don’t like illegal Americans.
Mr. El Salvador walked onto the bus telling everyone that he was going to check our passports. As he did so my heart was beating fast and hoping upon hope that we would get through okay and that our illegal tampering with documents would not be discovered. Oh to dream. He got to Abby and checked hers…kept checking…twisted his face in a few different confused positions, and then said, “I need to go check this.” I gave him mine as well, off he went, and there we sat, fingers crossed. About 15 minutes later he returned to the bus, held our passports in the air, stared intently at us and said,
(Authors note: this is an abbreviated version of the conversation and much better when heard in person.)
“Get off the bus right now. Get off. I’m sorry but these are not valid. Get off the bus”
“But..we…but…why?”
“You are too far past the date, these have BEEN CHANGED.”
“But we were told we could pay a fine. We have money, here take our money!!”
“No, you can’t do that here, you need to get off the bus, get your luggage from underneath and go back to Guatemala.”
“Sir, please, we need to keep going, we will pay the fine, just…”
“NO. GET OFF THE BUS.”
Ahhhhh! In my head I am thinking ”okajdfnglakdfn omg omg omg omg omg omg omg we shouldn’t have changed them. Omg omg. What are we going to do…. Ahahaiogodnfkajdng gaaaaaaah” On the outside however, I was a bit more calm and collected. I complied with directions and put on my negotiating hat. We were NOT going back to Guatemala.
We made our way off the bus and as we did so, Abby began to call Triny, our principal. At this point I was so pissed, scared, confused, I didn’t really know what to do. The border officers kept telling us what our offenses were and we pleaded with them, saying that the Honduran immigration office said that we could pay a fine and be on our way. We lied and said that the immigration office had changed our passports and that we didn’t know what he was talking about; we still should have five days to leave the country. We also lied and said that we were catching a flight the next day in San Salvador to leave the country. Of course this is all happening in broken Spanish on our part and broken English on his part. Then came the tears. I could have made them too…just being so frustrated in the moment, but Abby beat me too it. She began her crying act with real tears, wailing about how her sisters have an air flight out of the country tomorrow and we have to leave. Here, I began to take on the “calm one” role, explaining our situation, negotiating as best I can in Spanglish. Meanwhile, we get a hold of Triny on the phone. Abby, still crying, explains (between deep crying breaths) that we were at the El Salvador border and they weren’t letting us pass. We put Mr. El Salvador on the phone with Triny. All I heard was a lot of yelling in Spanish. While this was happening, we had quickly become quite a spectacle for the entire bus and many of the vendors around the borderline. It was so hot out and the sweat was trickling down my face just as Abby’s tears were coming down hers. It was about this time when Abby stopped crying and said to her sisters, and me
“Sorry guys, thought the tears would work.”
As the men were pulling out our suitcases from below the bus, Mr. El Salvador went once again to check and see about our passports. We began to put on our backpacking backpacks, still talking to the other people on the border- everyone giving us advice on what we should do. Suddenly, Mr. El Salvador came running back,
“We have a solution! We have a solution!”
Oh? Do tell. You mean you put us through all this trouble and now you are going to let us pass? Yep, pretty much. We follow him into the office, 50 yards away. To make a long story a little less long, turns out they were going to let us pay a fine. $115 each. That’s a pretty hefty sum, but we were just fine with that. They extended our stay in the CA-4 and though we’d have to leave Abby’s sisters in Nicaragua a day early, we decided to just go with it and figure things out later. Thankfully, the bus waited for us. Mind you, this entire process took about 30-40 minutes. All the rest of the people on the bus were thinking, “stupid gringos!” I could care less though; I was just so relieved that we weren’t being sent back to Guatemala. One of my favorite lines was while we were in the office, Abby
was still crying, trying to convince the guy to let us stay an extra day in Nicaragua…
Abby: “Mis hermanitas tienen deciseis (deep breath in between crying) y deciocho anos y no puedo dejarlas…cry cry cry cry”
Mr. El Salvador: “I understand you are very sentimental, but please calm down.”
I almost laughed out loud. Sentimental. Ha. Abby is a Miranda and hates chick flicks. Don’t even get her started on “Eat Pray Love.” She threw the book against a wall mid way through.
After getting settled back onto the bus, I asked Abby if I could be the one to call Triny back. In the back of my mind I had been preparing my speech full of words like “unprofessional,” “unnecessary,” “ridiculous,” “unacceptable” and “unfair.” A lof of “un’s.” Of course, my real thoughts included words like “bullshit,” “I quit,” and “you suck.” When Triny picked up the phone, this is basically how our conversation went,
“Hello?”
“Triny? It’s Sarah. We got through and we’re on the bus, going to El Salvador. But it almost didn’t happen. It took a lot of convincing, a lot of heartache, stress and tears. This should never have happened. Our passports should never have been expired, and this should have been taken care of months ago. This is YOUR responsibility as stated in our contract and we should not be put in this position. It is extremely unprofessional and this is EXACTLY the reason American teachers quit your school EVERY YEAR….”
“Sarah. Sarah. I tried. You know I tried….blah blah”
“Well you did NOT TRY HARD ENOUGH.”
“Sarah…“
“You have had foreign teachers for 10 years. This sort of thing is absolutely ridiculous and entirely unacceptable, and I have half a mind to quit right now…”
I pretty much continued on this rant barely pausing to let her talk. I wouldn’t say I was yelling but I certainly was talking very sternly. About mid way into my rant or her attempted reconciliation, I lost service on my phone and basically hung up on her. So not only did I call my BOSS unprofessional, ridiculous, and threaten to quit, but I also accidentally (unbeknownst to Triny) hung up on her.
People always say that you should take a few deep breathes, wait a little bit before talking to someone about a problem, not do it in the heat of the moment. As good as my speech was, I think I could have taken a page from this book. I usually do, too. It’s rare that I let the heat of the moment get to me, but I suppose it needs to happen occasionally for me to remember for next time.
When we got to our hotel in San Salvador, we wrote Triny and email, apologizing for the hang up and explaining further our situation. It ended up that we didn’t hear from her for about 5 or so days which was almost as bad as my junior year spring break mess (anyone remember that?) We did finally hear back from Triny’s husband, Phil, and it was all very understanding, apologetic, and with no negative feelings. That was a load off, for sure. Before that however, about 15% of my brain was thinking, SHE IS GOING TO HATE ME. To which Abby so eloquently would reply,
"Sarah. No. She totally f*cked us over." FACT.
This story has a happy ending though. Once in San Salvador we found ourselves at our hotel where we had reserved an economy room. We got even further discounted because we were 
taking a bus the next day from its “sister” company. When we entered our room, not only did we have a TV with cable, but also the most amazing shower I have seen in Central America. The water pressure was amazing, the hot water was almost too hot (almost) and the towels were tan suave. After our hot travels and extremely stressful day, we all took showers and then watched Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde. Hot showers and stupid television…awww reminds me of home. Thanks, Elle.
Main road in Antigua. The arch/clock is the remnents of a 15th Convent at the end there. Que bonito.
The day we left Antigua was one of ease and comfort. We figured out exactly how we would be getting from Guatemala to Nicaragua and had everything all planned out. The plan was to stay in EL Salvador for one night and then continue on to Granada, Nicaragua where we would be for four days. At this point my friend, Brett, had left to go back to the U.S. and it was just the four chicas. The first border we crossed was the Guatemalan exit border. They let us out with no trouble. Abby and I laughed a bit about how absurd our last border experience had been compared to this one. Little did we know that in a few minutes our laughter would be turning to tears. (How melodramatic does that sound?) After our exit border, we were crossing into El Salvador. Note to self: El Salvadorian border guards don’t like illegal Americans.
Mr. El Salvador walked onto the bus telling everyone that he was going to check our passports. As he did so my heart was beating fast and hoping upon hope that we would get through okay and that our illegal tampering with documents would not be discovered. Oh to dream. He got to Abby and checked hers…kept checking…twisted his face in a few different confused positions, and then said, “I need to go check this.” I gave him mine as well, off he went, and there we sat, fingers crossed. About 15 minutes later he returned to the bus, held our passports in the air, stared intently at us and said,
(Authors note: this is an abbreviated version of the conversation and much better when heard in person.)
“Get off the bus right now. Get off. I’m sorry but these are not valid. Get off the bus”
“But..we…but…why?”
“You are too far past the date, these have BEEN CHANGED.”
“But we were told we could pay a fine. We have money, here take our money!!”
“No, you can’t do that here, you need to get off the bus, get your luggage from underneath and go back to Guatemala.”
“Sir, please, we need to keep going, we will pay the fine, just…”
“NO. GET OFF THE BUS.”
Ahhhhh! In my head I am thinking ”okajdfnglakdfn omg omg omg omg omg omg omg we shouldn’t have changed them. Omg omg. What are we going to do…. Ahahaiogodnfkajdng gaaaaaaah” On the outside however, I was a bit more calm and collected. I complied with directions and put on my negotiating hat. We were NOT going back to Guatemala.
We made our way off the bus and as we did so, Abby began to call Triny, our principal. At this point I was so pissed, scared, confused, I didn’t really know what to do. The border officers kept telling us what our offenses were and we pleaded with them, saying that the Honduran immigration office said that we could pay a fine and be on our way. We lied and said that the immigration office had changed our passports and that we didn’t know what he was talking about; we still should have five days to leave the country. We also lied and said that we were catching a flight the next day in San Salvador to leave the country. Of course this is all happening in broken Spanish on our part and broken English on his part. Then came the tears. I could have made them too…just being so frustrated in the moment, but Abby beat me too it. She began her crying act with real tears, wailing about how her sisters have an air flight out of the country tomorrow and we have to leave. Here, I began to take on the “calm one” role, explaining our situation, negotiating as best I can in Spanglish. Meanwhile, we get a hold of Triny on the phone. Abby, still crying, explains (between deep
“Sorry guys, thought the tears would work.”
As the men were pulling out our suitcases from below the bus, Mr. El Salvador went once again to check and see about our passports. We began to put on our backpacking backpacks, still talking to the other people on the border- everyone giving us advice on what we should do. Suddenly, Mr. El Salvador came running back,
“We have a solution! We have a solution!”
Oh? Do tell. You mean you put us through all this trouble and now you are going to let us pass? Yep, pretty much. We follow him into the office, 50 yards away. To make a long story a little less long, turns out they were going to let us pay a fine. $115 each. That’s a pretty hefty sum, but we were just fine with that. They extended our stay in the CA-4 and though we’d have to leave Abby’s sisters in Nicaragua a day early, we decided to just go with it and figure things out later. Thankfully, the bus waited for us. Mind you, this entire process took about 30-40 minutes. All the rest of the people on the bus were thinking, “stupid gringos!” I could care less though; I was just so relieved that we weren’t being sent back to Guatemala. One of my favorite lines was while we were in the office, Abby
was still crying, trying to convince the guy to let us stay an extra day in Nicaragua…
Abby: “Mis hermanitas tienen deciseis (deep breath in between crying) y deciocho anos y no puedo dejarlas…cry cry cry cry”
Mr. El Salvador: “I understand you are very sentimental, but please calm down.”
I almost laughed out loud. Sentimental. Ha. Abby is a Miranda and hates chick flicks. Don’t even get her started on “Eat Pray Love.” She threw the book against a wall mid way through.
After getting settled back onto the bus, I asked Abby if I could be the one to call Triny back. In the back of my mind I had been preparing my speech full of words like “unprofessional,” “unnecessary,” “ridiculous,” “unacceptable” and “unfair.” A lof of “un’s.” Of course, my real thoughts included words like “bullshit,” “I quit,” and “you suck.” When Triny picked up the phone, this is basically how our conversation went,
“Hello?”
“Triny? It’s Sarah. We got through and we’re on the bus, going to El Salvador. But it almost didn’t happen. It took a lot of convincing, a lot of heartache, stress and tears. This should never have happened. Our passports should never have been expired, and this should have been taken care of months ago. This is YOUR responsibility as stated in our contract and we should not be put in this position. It is extremely unprofessional and this is EXACTLY the reason American teachers quit your school EVERY YEAR….”
“Sarah. Sarah. I tried. You know I tried….blah blah”
“Well you did NOT TRY HARD ENOUGH.”
“Sarah…“
“You have had foreign teachers for 10 years. This sort of thing is absolutely ridiculous and entirely unacceptable, and I have half a mind to quit right now…”
I pretty much continued on this rant barely pausing to let her talk. I wouldn’t say I was yelling but I certainly was talking very sternly. About mid way into my rant or her attempted reconciliation, I lost service on my phone and basically hung up on her. So not only did I call my BOSS unprofessional, ridiculous, and threaten to quit, but I also accidentally (unbeknownst to Triny) hung up on her.
People always say that you should take a few deep breathes, wait a little bit before talking to someone about a problem, not do it in the heat of the moment. As good as my speech was, I think I could have taken a page from this book. I usually do, too. It’s rare that I let the heat of the moment get to me, but I suppose it needs to happen occasionally for me to remember for next time.
When we got to our hotel in San Salvador, we wrote Triny and email, apologizing for the hang up and explaining further our situation. It ended up that we didn’t hear from her for about 5 or so days which was almost as bad as my junior year spring break mess (anyone remember that?) We did finally hear back from Triny’s husband, Phil, and it was all very understanding, apologetic, and with no negative feelings. That was a load off, for sure. Before that however, about 15% of my brain was thinking, SHE IS GOING TO HATE ME. To which Abby so eloquently would reply,
"Sarah. No. She totally f*cked us over." FACT.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Holllerrr Guatemalllerrr
Guatemala, y'all. That's what's up.
Our trip through Guatemala gave me a new place to put on the top of my list of the most beautiful places I have been. That's a tough title to give, and I am sure Lake Michigan or Yosemite could top it on a different day, but right then, right there, I could not imagine a prettier site.
The journey began as we departed from our comfy gringo shuttle and ran across the street to our most epic ride to date. It was more than going across the street, it was time to enter into the world where personal space, comfort, and common sense is completely foreign. On our three hour road trip from Ranchero to Coban, we saw a beautiful country side and many a Mayan man climb into our little van. We were driving in a 16-seater van and I kid you not when I say that for a majority of the ride we had 30 people in the van...probably more. I wish I had counted. Every time you thought there was no way they could fit another person, we would suddenly pull off to the side of the road and pick up a few more workers. Fortunately, Brett and I scored the front seats of the van, up near the driver meaning we didn't really have to deal with this at all. We just observed the happenings. Abby, Hannah, and Alex on the other hang were not as lucky. I would occassionally look back at them with a sympathetic look in my eye all the while glad I had been one of the chosen ones for the front. With there being 30 men where there should only be 15 people, you can imagine the squishy close quarters. Did I mention that these guys were all traveling back home (presumably) after long days/weeks/months of dirty work? Let's just say they were not the cleanliest, best smelling bunch of people I've ever seen. Our drop off in Coban was long awaited and very welcomed. The best part about this entire ride that is was no big deal to everyone else. In the U.S. we freak out if we don't wear seat belts or sneak an extra person in the car. HA. Someone answer me why Cid got a ticket from a police officer for not wearing his seatbelt in a friends car, but these vans and buses pack them in by the buttloads and no one thinks anything of it. Hypocrisy my friends, it's all over.
Coban, Guatemala is nothing really too special except for the fact that they have a mall with a fake Gap (Gap P.S.), a McDonalds, and a Pizza Hut. We were set up at a nice posada with fake hotwater for showering. As in, they advertised hot water, and had hot water heaters on the shower heads, but really it was just a little more tolerable than freezing water. We did however score with our choice of dinner restaurant. This Italian restaurant was the answer to our hunger prayers with the cutest and nicest Guatemalan lady to serve us. Neither Guatemalan or Italian, I got a cheeseburger. But believe you me it hit that hunger spot like no other.
The next day was Christmas Eve and our final traveling day for a while. We awoke early enough to get some huevos rancheros at our new favorite restaurant, change some more money into Quetzales, and pack up the rest of our stuff. We were a bit hurried out the door when our shuttle came earlier than expected. Imagine our shock. Early? On Time? Unheard of! Brett and I were waiting patiently on our shuttle for about 10 minutes while the girls continued to pack their things. When Abby finally got on the bus with her sisters, she said "Sorry, guys, had some issues with finding passports." Cue my gasp and stomach drop. "SHIT!" As I sped off the bus, yelling "Espera! por favor espera!!" I had completely forgotten my passport in my hotel room in the little desk drawer. Estupida! Thank god she said something. Leaving your passport at a hotel in the States is scary...imagine doing so in Guatemala. That was a close one.
Our trip to Semuc Champey was a little less crowded than our previous van ride. Not to say that we weren't squished. We were certainly sitting very close to eachother, but at least it was next to each other and not random Guatemalans. The bus started off decently full, and then just got more and more so as we continued up and around the mountainside. Probably the best part was when a Mayan woman got on the bus with a white bag. When the bag began to squeal a little bit and move around, we soon learned that there was a little pig in the bag. Abby was the lucky one sitting next to it. So despite us not seeing any chickens on our chicken bus (that's what these uber crowded buses are called) we saw a pig. After the woman departed, Abby turned around and asked "Do you have your hand sanitizer? I have pig poop on my hand." Ah Central America.
This journey to Semuc Champey brought us through the lucious green mountainside of Guatemala. We almost tried to get there the night before, but goodness am I glad we opted for the morning's daylight. I was in awe the entire time. First of all, we were driving through the middle of nowhere. Like- seriously- THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. You wouldn't see life for miles and then all of a sudden there would be a little tiny shack house of a Mayan family, who I can only imagine had lived there for ages. The entire time I was asking myself, WHO lives out here?! There is no way people move here, which makes these tiny little neighborhoods of Mayan families all the more fascinating. I just love thinking about how many generations have lived on that same plot of land. The other really cool thing about Guatemala is how ingrained and present their indigenous culture is there. Seventy percent of Guatemala's population is indigenous, meaning they speak the Mayan language, practice the religion, and wear the traditional dress. Our entire trip I loved catching wind of a conversation between Mayans and listening to their language. Entirely different from Spanish, it was fairly easy to pick out for Abby and me.
The landscape was incredible. Just hill upon hill upon hill upon hill upon mountain upon peak of rolling greenery. It was like nothing I have ever seen. The greenery were various different plants but I think a lot of it was coco beans, mainly because we were offered several hand mand chocolate candy bars from malnourished Mayan children. "Chocolate! Chocolate! Cinco! Chocolate!" The land though, man, it was just so cool. And the people who live out here are so poor. Not to mention, they pretty much have no choice to be completely self sustaining, as there is no grocery store down the street. I imagine many of the men we were dropping off on our way, go into the "city" to work for a few days/weeks and then come back with money for their family. I sometimes think Santa Rosa is a different world, but compared to these places, it's like living in New York City. The trek was long, especially because we had no real idea how far it would be, but we finally got to our little hostel right outside of Semuc Champey National Park.
This hostel, like everything else near Semuc Champey, is in the middle of nowhere, staffed with a delightful group of Guatemalans who welcomed us with great service, yummy food, and a cheap stay. Not so cheap though that we didn't have to budget our money as there are no ATMs for about 3 hours. We were housed in little one room cabins with adjacent bathrooms. No hot water for miles and electricity only from 6:00pm-10:00pm. So rustic! Our stay here allowed us to just chill for a bit. In our down time we would pretty much read or play cards with some fellow travelers. During our stay we met some really cool people from all over- specifically- Canada, Denmark, Norway, and the U.S. Hardly any of them knew much Spanish, but they all were completely fluent in English. Damn Europeans. So smart. The biggest character of them all though was of course the one U.S.A-er that we met. Originally from Lansing, Michigan, Jerrod, call me BEAR (rooting from Jerbear), has been traveling around for the past 5 years, and only recently has traveled past the U.S. borders into Mexico and Guatemala. Doing odd jobs here and there to make money, he was a 60's hippie in the wrong generation. He was probably in his late 20's wore only tie-die and I don't know if I ever saw him wearing shoes. My hippie, flower child, drifter suspicions were confirmed with his in depth explanation of his book that he is writing. Something about being raised on television and now following the ways of the rainbow connection. Does anyone know about the "rainbow connection"? It's like this movement where you only think positive thoughts about other people, etc etc...I'm not really sure. Anyway, he was a hoot. But super nice. Oh, and he has been traveling down here for around 3 months without a passport. He came here on a whim, somehow snuck past the border gaurds and has been traveling ever since. I think that sums up his chill attitude pretty well.
Now enough about the accommodations and the staff. Our first glimpse of Semuc Champey came the day we arrived. After having lunch we ventured to this natural place of stunning beauty. Semuc Champey was only discovered by tourists in the past 20-30 years and is therefore still very much untouched. There is a gorgeous picture of this place in Abby's Guatemala guidebook and though she traveled all throughout Guate before coming to the Hondo, she never made it to Semuc Champey. After hearing amazing things and carrying this picture with her everywhere, she was determined to get there and brought me with her. Semuc Champey is what paradise looks like. So beautiful it doesn't seem real, like something created in a movie with computer graphics. It is made of these emerald pools of water formed by a river which runs underneath the land. Various sizes of waterfalls are sprinkled all around with the entire area surrounded by a gorgeous mountain scape. Our first glimpses left us in awe. What's more is that you can completely swim in the pools, perfectly temperatured water, I felt like a mermaid. Unfortunately my words can't do it justice. Fortunately, however, I have pictures, which also don't do it justice, but it helps.
View from the top of the mountain. A unexpectedly tough hike, but completely worth it. This also, is the picture that brought us to Semuc.
While most of you were opening presents, drinking egg nog, and singing Christmas carols, I spent my Christmas day a little different. One word: CAVES. Quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever done. The hostel we were staying at gave daily tours of the caves outside of Semuc Champey. These caves were only discovered by locals 15 years ago! How cool is that?? Our cave guide was named Sebastian and he, according to him, was the best tour guide and while some guides only took you half way, he'd give us the real deal. Well, I believe him, because I certainly felt that I had gotten my 40 Quetzales worth...equivelant to, um...5 dollars. Yeah, ridiculously worth it. We first met Sebastian when we got to the cave tour cabin thingy and they told us about our wake up call, prior to going in the caves. In other words, jumping from a rope swing into the water. No big thang. We were not expecting this to be part of the tour, but hey, when in Rome. This was at about 9:00am and needless to say, if I wasn't awake before hand, I certainly was afterward. The "owner" of the caves said "You think that was fun? The caves are better." Alright then! Bring on the caves!
Let's compare for a second:
Spelunking in the U.S. or any "1st world" country:
-consent form
-helmet
-harness
-life jacket
-head lamp
-flashlights
-first aid
Example A. Random person I don't know from google images. Spelunking in Missouri.
Spelunking in Guatemala:
-candle
Also from google- actual caves, and potentially the same guide, as us. They are clearly not my pictures, as I didn't want to bring my camera in the water. But you get the point. Is this kind of creepy that I'm taking other people's pictures? Probably.
Our cave experience was so Guatemala, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Sebastian, a native Mayan mountain man from the area took us through these caves with only a candle and our trust in him. Before we went in he did his version of a consent form (mind you everything he said, was all in Spanish.) "Everyone can swim, right?" Yes, swimming. In caves. There were literally moments where we could not touch, and were swimming with one arm, and holding our candles with the other, above our head, as to not let the flame go out. Even when we weren't swimming, we were always at least waist high in water. Events in the cave included climbing a waterfall, jumping off this huge rock into a very risky pool of water...aka the stupidest thing I've ever done. I survived fine, but the potential of something going wrong...aka me hitting my head, leg, or any other body part on a piece of rock, was higher than it should have been. It was so incredible though. I really felt like I was in Disneyland. The caves did not seem real...as if they were created for the Indiana Jones ride. But, they WERE real! And so were the bats. mmm...yummy. All in all we spent about 2ish hours in the center of the earth, and it was so freaking cool, which I pretty much said 689 times while swimming and walking through.
The other eventful happening was our lovely friend that the girls had visiting their bedroom one night. Alex came out to the common area one night and said, "Abby, did you see the spider in our room?" "No." "Literally, THIS BIG." And we all know when people say, "OMG, IT WAS SO BIG" it really isn't that big. Well, this time, NO. We all went into the room and DEAR GOD IT WAS A GIANT TARANCHULA IN THEIR ROOM. Hairy, huge, black, taranchula. Cue freak out. I don't mind killing spiders, but um...hellloooo...how do you kill something like this?? With a gun?? This is not your, let's get my shoe and smash it. No no friends, this was hard core spiderage.
Well, 2 minutes later the entire hostel was in the girls' room, looking at the spectacle. Of course it took the locals to actually get the bug...you can't even call it a bug...the animal, out of the room. They were like, "it's not a big deal, we live with them, they're apart of us." Yeah, well, that may be so, but I'd rather not sleep with one right next to my head, kthanksbye. It was fine though, that was the last sighting of any taranchulas for the rest of the trip. Never in my life have I seen something like that. eeeee!
Our Semuc Champey trip was concluded with a lovely breakfast and then a trip through the mountains in the back of a pick up truck. This was our quote in quote "shuttle service" that we reserved. Hm. While I was a little nervous at first, I gotta say, riding in the back of a pick up truck through the luscious green mountains of Guatemala, is pretty sweet.
Wind in your hair, perfect views, and the air quality is fantastic. Since then, I'll have you know that I have now ridden in about 4 pick up trucks. Being a seatbelt nut, that is saying something. Once again, all I can say is, when in Rome...do what the Guatemalans do.
P.S. Want to see more pictures? Sure ya do! Check out my facebook album or my friend Brett's pics!!
Our trip through Guatemala gave me a new place to put on the top of my list of the most beautiful places I have been. That's a tough title to give, and I am sure Lake Michigan or Yosemite could top it on a different day, but right then, right there, I could not imagine a prettier site.
The journey began as we departed from our comfy gringo shuttle and ran across the street to our most epic ride to date. It was more than going across the street, it was time to enter into the world where personal space, comfort, and common sense is completely foreign. On our three hour road trip from Ranchero to Coban, we saw a beautiful country side and many a Mayan man climb into our little van. We were driving in a 16-seater van and I kid you not when I say that for a majority of the ride we had 30 people in the van...probably more. I wish I had counted. Every time you thought there was no way they could fit another person, we would suddenly pull off to the side of the road and pick up a few more workers. Fortunately, Brett and I scored the front seats of the van, up near the driver meaning we didn't really have to deal with this at all. We just observed the happenings. Abby, Hannah, and Alex on the other hang were not as lucky. I would occassionally look back at them with a sympathetic look in my eye all the while glad I had been one of the chosen ones for the front. With there being 30 men where there should only be 15 people, you can imagine the squishy close quarters. Did I mention that these guys were all traveling back home (presumably) after long days/weeks/months of dirty work? Let's just say they were not the cleanliest, best smelling bunch of people I've ever seen. Our drop off in Coban was long awaited and very welcomed. The best part about this entire ride that is was no big deal to everyone else. In the U.S. we freak out if we don't wear seat belts or sneak an extra person in the car. HA. Someone answer me why Cid got a ticket from a police officer for not wearing his seatbelt in a friends car, but these vans and buses pack them in by the buttloads and no one thinks anything of it. Hypocrisy my friends, it's all over.
Coban, Guatemala is nothing really too special except for the fact that they have a mall with a fake Gap (Gap P.S.), a McDonalds, and a Pizza Hut. We were set up at a nice posada with fake hotwater for showering. As in, they advertised hot water, and had hot water heaters on the shower heads, but really it was just a little more tolerable than freezing water. We did however score with our choice of dinner restaurant. This Italian restaurant was the answer to our hunger prayers with the cutest and nicest Guatemalan lady to serve us. Neither Guatemalan or Italian, I got a cheeseburger. But believe you me it hit that hunger spot like no other.
The next day was Christmas Eve and our final traveling day for a while. We awoke early enough to get some huevos rancheros at our new favorite restaurant, change some more money into Quetzales, and pack up the rest of our stuff. We were a bit hurried out the door when our shuttle came earlier than expected. Imagine our shock. Early? On Time? Unheard of! Brett and I were waiting patiently on our shuttle for about 10 minutes while the girls continued to pack their things. When Abby finally got on the bus with her sisters, she said "Sorry, guys, had some issues with finding passports." Cue my gasp and stomach drop. "SHIT!" As I sped off the bus, yelling "Espera! por favor espera!!" I had completely forgotten my passport in my hotel room in the little desk drawer. Estupida! Thank god she said something. Leaving your passport at a hotel in the States is scary...imagine doing so in Guatemala. That was a close one.
Our trip to Semuc Champey was a little less crowded than our previous van ride. Not to say that we weren't squished. We were certainly sitting very close to eachother, but at least it was next to each other and not random Guatemalans. The bus started off decently full, and then just got more and more so as we continued up and around the mountainside. Probably the best part was when a Mayan woman got on the bus with a white bag. When the bag began to squeal a little bit and move around, we soon learned that there was a little pig in the bag. Abby was the lucky one sitting next to it. So despite us not seeing any chickens on our chicken bus (that's what these uber crowded buses are called) we saw a pig. After the woman departed, Abby turned around and asked "Do you have your hand sanitizer? I have pig poop on my hand." Ah Central America.
This journey to Semuc Champey brought us through the lucious green mountainside of Guatemala. We almost tried to get there the night before, but goodness am I glad we opted for the morning's daylight. I was in awe the entire time. First of all, we were driving through the middle of nowhere. Like- seriously- THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. You wouldn't see life for miles and then all of a sudden there would be a little tiny shack house of a Mayan family, who I can only imagine had lived there for ages. The entire time I was asking myself, WHO lives out here?! There is no way people move here, which makes these tiny little neighborhoods of Mayan families all the more fascinating. I just love thinking about how many generations have lived on that same plot of land. The other really cool thing about Guatemala is how ingrained and present their indigenous culture is there. Seventy percent of Guatemala's population is indigenous, meaning they speak the Mayan language, practice the religion, and wear the traditional dress. Our entire trip I loved catching wind of a conversation between Mayans and listening to their language. Entirely different from Spanish, it was fairly easy to pick out for Abby and me.
Rolling hills upon hills. G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S.
The landscape was incredible. Just hill upon hill upon hill upon hill upon mountain upon peak of rolling greenery. It was like nothing I have ever seen. The greenery were various different plants but I think a lot of it was coco beans, mainly because we were offered several hand mand chocolate candy bars from malnourished Mayan children. "Chocolate! Chocolate! Cinco! Chocolate!" The land though, man, it was just so cool. And the people who live out here are so poor. Not to mention, they pretty much have no choice to be completely self sustaining, as there is no grocery store down the street. I imagine many of the men we were dropping off on our way, go into the "city" to work for a few days/weeks and then come back with money for their family. I sometimes think Santa Rosa is a different world, but compared to these places, it's like living in New York City. The trek was long, especially because we had no real idea how far it would be, but we finally got to our little hostel right outside of Semuc Champey National Park.
This hostel, like everything else near Semuc Champey, is in the middle of nowhere, staffed with a delightful group of Guatemalans who welcomed us with great service, yummy food, and a cheap stay. Not so cheap though that we didn't have to budget our money as there are no ATMs for about 3 hours. We were housed in little one room cabins with adjacent bathrooms. No hot water for miles and electricity only from 6:00pm-10:00pm. So rustic! Our stay here allowed us to just chill for a bit. In our down time we would pretty much read or play cards with some fellow travelers. During our stay we met some really cool people from all over- specifically- Canada, Denmark, Norway, and the U.S. Hardly any of them knew much Spanish, but they all were completely fluent in English. Damn Europeans. So smart. The biggest character of them all though was of course the one U.S.A-er that we met. Originally from Lansing, Michigan, Jerrod, call me BEAR (rooting from Jerbear), has been traveling around for the past 5 years, and only recently has traveled past the U.S. borders into Mexico and Guatemala. Doing odd jobs here and there to make money, he was a 60's hippie in the wrong generation. He was probably in his late 20's wore only tie-die and I don't know if I ever saw him wearing shoes. My hippie, flower child, drifter suspicions were confirmed with his in depth explanation of his book that he is writing. Something about being raised on television and now following the ways of the rainbow connection. Does anyone know about the "rainbow connection"? It's like this movement where you only think positive thoughts about other people, etc etc...I'm not really sure. Anyway, he was a hoot. But super nice. Oh, and he has been traveling down here for around 3 months without a passport. He came here on a whim, somehow snuck past the border gaurds and has been traveling ever since. I think that sums up his chill attitude pretty well.
Now enough about the accommodations and the staff. Our first glimpse of Semuc Champey came the day we arrived. After having lunch we ventured to this natural place of stunning beauty. Semuc Champey was only discovered by tourists in the past 20-30 years and is therefore still very much untouched. There is a gorgeous picture of this place in Abby's Guatemala guidebook and though she traveled all throughout Guate before coming to the Hondo, she never made it to Semuc Champey. After hearing amazing things and carrying this picture with her everywhere, she was determined to get there and brought me with her. Semuc Champey is what paradise looks like. So beautiful it doesn't seem real, like something created in a movie with computer graphics. It is made of these emerald pools of water formed by a river which runs underneath the land. Various sizes of waterfalls are sprinkled all around with the entire area surrounded by a gorgeous mountain scape. Our first glimpses left us in awe. What's more is that you can completely swim in the pools, perfectly temperatured water, I felt like a mermaid. Unfortunately my words can't do it justice. Fortunately, however, I have pictures, which also don't do it justice, but it helps.
The opening of the river that forms the whole thing.
The river runs through it. A book, a movie, and the contents of this photo.
Emerald/turquoise water. Jealous?
Paradise.
Swimming in the Semuc Champey pools...don't mind if I do.
View from the top of the mountain. A unexpectedly tough hike, but completely worth it. This also, is the picture that brought us to Semuc.
Me peering out on the beautiful splendor.
While most of you were opening presents, drinking egg nog, and singing Christmas carols, I spent my Christmas day a little different. One word: CAVES. Quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever done. The hostel we were staying at gave daily tours of the caves outside of Semuc Champey. These caves were only discovered by locals 15 years ago! How cool is that?? Our cave guide was named Sebastian and he, according to him, was the best tour guide and while some guides only took you half way, he'd give us the real deal. Well, I believe him, because I certainly felt that I had gotten my 40 Quetzales worth...equivelant to, um...5 dollars. Yeah, ridiculously worth it. We first met Sebastian when we got to the cave tour cabin thingy and they told us about our wake up call, prior to going in the caves. In other words, jumping from a rope swing into the water. No big thang. We were not expecting this to be part of the tour, but hey, when in Rome. This was at about 9:00am and needless to say, if I wasn't awake before hand, I certainly was afterward. The "owner" of the caves said "You think that was fun? The caves are better." Alright then! Bring on the caves!
Let's compare for a second:
Spelunking in the U.S. or any "1st world" country:
-consent form
-helmet
-harness
-life jacket
-head lamp
-flashlights
-first aid
Example A. Random person I don't know from google images. Spelunking in Missouri.
Spelunking in Guatemala:
-candle
Also from google- actual caves, and potentially the same guide, as us. They are clearly not my pictures, as I didn't want to bring my camera in the water. But you get the point. Is this kind of creepy that I'm taking other people's pictures? Probably.
Our cave experience was so Guatemala, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Sebastian, a native Mayan mountain man from the area took us through these caves with only a candle and our trust in him. Before we went in he did his version of a consent form (mind you everything he said, was all in Spanish.) "Everyone can swim, right?" Yes, swimming. In caves. There were literally moments where we could not touch, and were swimming with one arm, and holding our candles with the other, above our head, as to not let the flame go out. Even when we weren't swimming, we were always at least waist high in water. Events in the cave included climbing a waterfall, jumping off this huge rock into a very risky pool of water...aka the stupidest thing I've ever done. I survived fine, but the potential of something going wrong...aka me hitting my head, leg, or any other body part on a piece of rock, was higher than it should have been. It was so incredible though. I really felt like I was in Disneyland. The caves did not seem real...as if they were created for the Indiana Jones ride. But, they WERE real! And so were the bats. mmm...yummy. All in all we spent about 2ish hours in the center of the earth, and it was so freaking cool, which I pretty much said 689 times while swimming and walking through.
No way does this do it justice. Imagine this in pitch black, add a candle, bats, and waterfalls...for 2 hours. Then multiply that by 50, and it was that cool, maybe more. I felt like I was in the Goonies or something.
The other eventful happening was our lovely friend that the girls had visiting their bedroom one night. Alex came out to the common area one night and said, "Abby, did you see the spider in our room?" "No." "Literally, THIS BIG." And we all know when people say, "OMG, IT WAS SO BIG" it really isn't that big. Well, this time, NO. We all went into the room and DEAR GOD IT WAS A GIANT TARANCHULA IN THEIR ROOM. Hairy, huge, black, taranchula. Cue freak out. I don't mind killing spiders, but um...hellloooo...how do you kill something like this?? With a gun?? This is not your, let's get my shoe and smash it. No no friends, this was hard core spiderage.
Legit as big as my hand.
Well, 2 minutes later the entire hostel was in the girls' room, looking at the spectacle. Of course it took the locals to actually get the bug...you can't even call it a bug...the animal, out of the room. They were like, "it's not a big deal, we live with them, they're apart of us." Yeah, well, that may be so, but I'd rather not sleep with one right next to my head, kthanksbye. It was fine though, that was the last sighting of any taranchulas for the rest of the trip. Never in my life have I seen something like that. eeeee!
Our Semuc Champey trip was concluded with a lovely breakfast and then a trip through the mountains in the back of a pick up truck. This was our quote in quote "shuttle service" that we reserved. Hm. While I was a little nervous at first, I gotta say, riding in the back of a pick up truck through the luscious green mountains of Guatemala, is pretty sweet.
Alex, Abby's stepsister, me, and Hannah, Abby's sister, holding on for dear life in the pickup truck.
Wind in your hair, perfect views, and the air quality is fantastic. Since then, I'll have you know that I have now ridden in about 4 pick up trucks. Being a seatbelt nut, that is saying something. Once again, all I can say is, when in Rome...do what the Guatemalans do.
P.S. Want to see more pictures? Sure ya do! Check out my facebook album or my friend Brett's pics!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
