Navidad Rancho Santa Fe Style

My Christmas actually began with shopping for gifts to give the girls from my hogar on Christmas morning. They receive a new clothing outfit from the NPH organization, but the only other gift they get is that from the volunteers. So, I learned very quickly that buying gifts for 22 teenage girls is very difficult and not cheap. (Thank you mom and dad for donating money to this cause.) When I set out shopping, I had an idea of what I wanted to get and how much I wanted to spend. I headed to a market in the city center where the prices are low and I knew that I could bargain. Once I was sure that they had what I was looking for, I truly enjoyed myself moving from stall to stall haggling with each vendor in search of the lowest price. I figured I had the upper hand since I was going to buy 22 of whatever, so I didn’t settle until I found the rock bottom price. Of course the biggest challenge of the day was dragging everything back to the ranch (2 taxis, one bus and ½ mile walk).

Hondurans primarily celebrate the birth of Christ on the eve of Christmas. We were blessed with beautiful weather and spent the entire afternoon outside playing organized games. The games included volleyball, orange eating contest, the biggest Yogi Bear look-a-like pinata I have ever seen and my personal favorite, chop the dulce, which involved blind folding a small child, who then flails a machete until finally chopping off their reward, a chunk off of a large solid block of brown sugar. In the evening, the kids put on a Christmas show of songs and skits. Then we all gathered on the boys side of the ranch for a traditional dinner of tamales, which were delicious. After dinner, a large bonfire was started and everyone socialized and danced. It was so refreshing to watch this large “family” spending time together and celebrating without a thought of gifts. When the fire died down a little, we roasted marshmallows. Then, they showed a Christmas movie on a screen hung from the side of one of the boys homes. At midnight, the movie was stopped and everyone gathered to share hugs and wish merry Christmas. Before heading back to hogar, we munched on apples and grapes, which is another tradition.

On Christmas morning, I woke up early and placed the gifts on the bed of each of the girls. I think that they enjoyed the gifts, but at their age, it is hard to tell. In the late morning, the girls made a collection of things (clothes, accessories, food, etc.) they no longer needed or wanted and we set out for the neighboring pueblos to gift these thing to people less fortunate. As is typical of teenagers, the girls were not very excited about the long walk in the shining sun to give away their things, but in the end, I think we all had a good time. After dark, we all gathered for a procession through the ranch along a candle lit path to the church for mass. Mass was typical and followed by a normal dinner of beans and plantains. In the evening, we started a soccer tournament that will last until the new year. Of course the volunteer team kicked it off with a big fat loss. None of us were born with that soccer gene that all Latin Americans seem to have.

Last Vacation: Guatemala and Utila one more time

Because this was my last chance to travel before returning home I really wanted to hit all of the spots that I hadn’t yet visited during my year in Honduras. So, my hope was to see a little of Guatemala, hit Copan quickly and then return to Utila to do some diving.

The trip began with a less than ideal bus trip to San Pedro Sula. I decided to splurge on the expensive bus so that I could get there faster and be more comfortable. Unfortunately, my money was not well spent. The bus smelled like the inside of a toilet (strange, since there wasn’t even a bathroom on the bus), which just got stronger throughout the trip. There was a couple sitting in the seats across the isle from me who where much more affected than I and were throwing up most of the trip. I did get to San Pedro sooner than my friends who had taken the MUCH cheaper bus. We spent the night with Santiago, one of the NPH pequenos who is going to University in San Pedro and lives with his two younger sisters who attend high school there. They were some of the best hosts ever. It was so strange to stay in their house, eat their food and let him pay for our taxi when I know where he has come from and how little money he has, but I also know that he would be offended by any offer of money for the stay.

The next morning, we took a bus from San Pedro Sula to Guatemala City (“Guate” to the locals). We were hoping to get there in time to take a shuttle to Antigua, but we didn’t make it, so we had to stay in Guate. We went to a hostel that was recommended in the Lonely Planet guide book. The building was very old, which gave it a lot of charm, but also a lot of physical damage. However, it was cheap, clean and we had our own room. Luckily we were only staying for one night because I am not sure the neighborhood was very good. When we paid for the room and the man working the desk needed to go next door for change, he peaked out the front door and waited until nobody was passing on the sidewalk. Then he scurried next door and sprinted back, quickly closing and locking the door. We went for dinner at the Chinese restaurant next door and carried out because the hostel owners recommended that we spend as little time on the street as possible.

We took an early shuttle the following morning to Antigua and arrived by 10. We spent all 4 nights in a great hostel called Hostel 5. It was simple, but clean and the woman that owned it was so nice and helpful. She even let us spend 2 nights in a one bedroom apartment next door for the same price ($10) because the room we were in was booked. The only downside was that there was nobody really staying in the hostel the first few nights, so we didn’t meet other travelers. We did meet several people during the day trips we took. We spent one day climbing Volcan Pakaya. It is an active volcano, which took about 3 hours to go up and down. This volcano was very different than the one that I did in Nicaragua because it was barren and covered in volcanic rock rather than a wet, dense cloud forest. The attraction to this volcano is the lava and we were lucky to find a flowing river of hot lava. The day after that, we took a day trip to Lake Atitlan, which is a large lake surrounded by 3 volcanos. During this trip we met Gus, a Canadian man traveling from the Arctic Circle to somewhere in South America on his motorcycle. (After spending the next 2 days with him, Angela actually got a ride back to Honduras with him.) We also met an Indian couple from NYC who were a far cry from the usual backpacker crowd we find while traveling. They were very nice, but so funny to watch in the setting of Central America with their high expectations for quality and service.

My original plan was to head to Copan (famous for its Mayan ruins) after 2 full days in Antigua. I was disappointed to learn that the bus was full the day I wanted to travel, but it turned out to be a great change of plan because we spent that extra day visiting the NPH Guatemala house. It was so amazing to see how different it was from the one in Honduras. The home has less children and is much smaller in area. The home is much newer, so all of the buildings appear much nicer and cleaner. The kids and volunteers live much differently than we do. I could definitely see myself volunteering there. The only disadvantage that I noted was the poor therapy resources.

I spent the entire next day on several buses from Antigua to La Ceiba (my old stomping ground). I spent the night in Ceiba at the cheapest hostel I knew off and met a fun group of Aussies while getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. The next morning, I took the ferry to Utila, which I later heard referred to as the great iron puke bucket. (Very appropriate since I have been on the boat 8 times and never made it all the way across without seeing someone vomit.) I got off the ferry and went straight to Captian Morgans Dive Shop. Right away, we hopped into a motor boat to Hotel Kayla in the Cays. I was hopping to reunite with some of the people I met last year, but the only familiar faces were of the owner and the boat driver, Luis, who actually remembered me. I suppose that is common because most people in the diving world are transient. Between the other Captian Morgans guests and the empolyees, we were a very diverse group. One of the dive instructors was from Mosambique and his regular (or not so) job is as a archaeological biologist, but since he is just contracted for each job at a time, he also does dive instructing in between jobs. He travels all over the world doing both jobs. What a great life! I also met 2 couples, one that just finished a year of travel around the world and another just beginning their year of travel. They were full of great valuable travel information.

I only dove one day while in the Cays and as it turns out, it was the best day to be there. The boat driver spotted 3 different whale sharks that day and we were able to swim with 2 of them. This was my second time, but it was just as exciting as the first. After our dive, the dive instructors had planned a party on Water Cay, which is a deserted island near the hotel. We spent the rest of the day drinking beer, eating a local coconut fish soup called Bandu, talking and snorkeling. We stayed on the island to watch the sun set then headed back to the hotel. The following day, I was planning to hang out on the dock and catch some sun. However, it poured rain all day long. When the dive boat returned to the hotel that day, I had to get on it and head back to Utila to spend the night since the ferry was leaving at 6 the next morning. Luckily, there was another couple taking the same ferry, so we were able to share a room. One of the guys, Shandel, had been fishing with one of the local fisherman and had 2 large fish to cook before leaving. We took the tuna to an island style restaurant and they cooked it up for us. We shared our dinner with 2 of the other dive instructors and boat captain. We had a good night partying on Utila, but all agreed that we preferred the tranquility of the Cays. I dragged myself out of bed the next morning and spent the day on various modes of transportation heading back to Tegucigalpa.

Visit To The Finca

I have a Honduran friend, Jorge, who lives on a farm north of the NPH ranch. The farm is primarily a dairy farm and he makes his money by selling the milk to a large Honduran dairy company, but also occasionally butchers a cow to eat and sell the meat. He has been bugging me for months to visit the “finca” to have lunch, meet the cows and see the small pueblo where he grew up. This Sunday, I finally gave in.

When we arrived, I was surprised to find that he has quite a few employees who live and work on the farm. His home is very simple and typical Honduran, but spacious, clean and comfortable. The farm was positioned on a large, fairly flat piece of land, but surrounded by lush green mountains. I am not a farm (or even outdoor) girl, but even I will admit that it was beautiful.

For lunch, we traveled down the road to the home of a man who occasionally works on the farm, but also has his own small tilapia farm. His house, which he built himself, was very simple. It was made of concrete block and consisted of 2 rooms. One with a wood burning stove, counter top, sink and small table for eating. Another room with one double bed and one single bed was the bedroom for him, his wife and their 5 year old son, Diego (who, when asked, told me he was 10). The bedroom had one window that was covered, but the windows in the kitchen were just open spaces. There was not one toy in sight (although, I am sure they own a soccer ball) and Diego played with a stick and the dog the entire time we were there.

The man led us into his backyard where he had 4 small square ponds that Jorge claimed he dug himself while Jorge drank beer and slept in a lawn chair. He told us each pond had about 1000 fish and as he threw food into one of the ponds it bubbled like a Jacuzzi as all of the fish mouths opened and closed against the surface. He tossed a net into the pond and within seconds removed about 8 fish. With the help of Diego, he untangled the fish from the net and put the good sized ones in a bag and tossed the little ones back into the pond. After 3 cycles, our lunch was picked out and they began skinning the fish. As we each sipped on cold beers, his wife floured and fried each whole fish. (I actually made a special request to have the head of mine removed. I just can‘t eat him when he is looking at me.) The fish were obviously very fresh and delicious.

After returning to the farm, Jorge and I went for a tour of the near by pueblo on his 4-wheeler. Driving that big machine up through the mountains was not easy and I can still feel the little muscles in my arms that got a workout that day. The ride was amazing and there were several points where we had great views over looking the valley towns and even an old mining sight outside of Tegus. As I drove through the cobblestone streets of the pueblo, Jorge pointed out all of the antique Spanish buildings and even an old water purification system built by the Spaniards that is still used by the people living there. The town was so cute and very well maintained by the people there. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a camera to capture the sights.

Quinceaneros

In the latin american culture, the 15th birthday is a very special event that is typically celebrated with an elaborate party that can sometimes rival a wedding. Of course, here on the ranch, it is impossible to throw an elaborate party for the 15th birthday of each individual. Therefore, each year there is one elaborate party to celebrate all that have completed 15 years that year. It is the biggest party of the year.

This year there were 8 girls from my hogar that turned 15. That made the quinceanero celebration very special for me. They began talking about the party months before the actual date and were fitted for special dresses way in advance because they were hand made by a ranch employee. Each girl has a padrino (godfather) and each boy a madrina (godmother), which is typically an employee or volunteer who is their escort for the evening. My girls began asking for padrinos way in advance and of course all of the quinceanero boys waited until the last minute. Because I don’t really have much contact with them and don’t know those boys very well, I was not a madrina. Because of this, I was able to spend the entire night with my girls.

I spent Thursday night giving pedicures, which is not a pleasant experience since many of the girls have a foot fungus that never seems to go away (for this, I think I should win volunteer of the yearJ). Then on Friday, after work, I spent time watching them prepare their hair, nails and make-up, taking pictures all the while. Of course, walking through the boys side of the ranch, one would never know there was a big event planned for that evening. They were all found playing games in the dirt or soccer on the cement court. When the preparations were finally done. The girls and boys lined up with their padrinos and madrinas outside the church for presentation in front of the entire ranch at mass. After mass, those participating in the evening took a bus down to the school for a special dinner.

The dinner was held in the school auditorium, which had been transformed into a banquet hall with beautiful handmade decorations that the tias had been working on for months. There was a balloon arch where each boy and his madrina was presented and an ivy covered swing set where each girl and her padrino was presented. The ceiling was draped in hundreds of pink paper flowers.

The dinner was typical Honduran fare, but with a small red wine toast to all of the quinceaneros. Almost all of the kids and some of the adults took one sip of the wine and declared it undrinkable because it didn’t have enough sugar. Anyone who has visited Honduras will not be surprised to hear this. I was able to take advantage of this and accumulated at least one full glass of wine. After dinner, the rest of the ranch joined the party. Each quinceanero had one dance with their padrino/madrina as we all watched. It was obvious nobody here does much “waltzing” (as they called it) because they were all bouncing off of each other like a bunch of balls in a pinball machine. After “the waltz”, the quinceaneros had their own performance and did a more modern dance choreographed by my roommate Candy. The night was completed with a big dance party that lasted until about 1 in the morning. This was without a doubt the best night I have had in Honduras.

Physical Therapy on The Ranch

My job is going great and everything is coming together. I finally have a set schedule that is working well right now and all of my “patients” have been attending regularly. I love every minute I spend in the “specials” house, Santa Maria Reina. There are 2 teenage girls with CP (or possibly some genetic disorder that presents very similarly) who I work with trying to do range of motion, positioning and caregiver education. There is also a girl who has some significant physical and mental problems of unknown origin who is very challenging, but also very fun to work with. Another girl has residual problems resulting from a case of menengitis when she was a child. She is a very sad case because she is totally normal and bright in the cognitive sense, but trapped in a body that doesn’t function very well. She can walk, but with very poor coordination and balance making it really unsafe. I have been trying to find something to help her walk, but have been unsuccessful as of now. I also work with the “special” boys house, Casa Emmanuel. These boys have a large range of problems, but all of them can walk independently, although it isn’t always pretty.

My favorite day of the week is spent in Casa Angeles, which is a house in the city for those kids who are very significantly impaired and need to be close to doctors. These kids are the most challenging for me because many of them are in need of splints, braces and wheelchairs that can’t be afforded. They spend their days lying around in the big room of the house, but I am very impressed that every Wednesday most of them spend the morning in hippotherapy (for those who don’t know, this is therapy with horses). I attended the therapy once and was able to actually get on the horse with the kid and do therapy. It was great and the little boy was so much more cooperative than normal.

The rest of my work time is spent in the physical therapy gym in the school. There I treat the kids who have minor physical problems. Most of these kids are between the ages of 5 and 10 and just have some delays in coordination and strength development. For me, the biggest challenge with these kids is behavior. It is very different from my previous jobs in that there is no parent to discipline (or threaten discipline) the kids. It is also difficult for me to motivate them or scold them in Spanish. There are several older kids that receive physical therapy and they are much easier to work with, but still challenging in other ways. Louis is a sixth grader with torticollis. This is a shortening of the muscles on one side of the neck that causes the kid to maintain the head tilted to that side and rotated to the opposite side. It usually affects babies, but they either receive therapy or grow out of it by the time they start walking. Louis is proof that kids don’t always just grow out of it. He consistently has his head tilted and now has developed a significant spinal scoliosis. Because the position of his head is a habit that has developed for 12 years it is impossible for me to fix. My only goal is to keep it from getting worse and try to manage his scoliosis.

The other older kid that I work with, Angela, has a syndrome that has caused abnormal growth of her long bones, malpositioning of the joints and other various abnormalities like having 6 toes on each foot. However, she has normal cognition and is quite bright. A few years ago, she went to the States with an orthopedic doctor who volunteers on the ranch several times a year. He surgically repositioned the bones of her legs to allow her to walk more normally. She lived with his family in Minn for 9 months during the recovery time and she speaks English very well. She has been helping me with my Spanish. Again, my goal for her is to maintain her strength and mobility.

Visitors Day

Three times a year Rancho Santa Fe has a visitors day for all of the family members of the kids living on the ranch. Those kids who will have visitors during that day go to the school early in the morning to wait for their visitors to arrive. Those that will not have visitors, spend the day with us, the volunteers. The day starts at 7:00 for everyone and the activities end at 4.

This visitors day we did an elaborate scavenger hunt all over the ranch. The kids had to run from one end of the ranch to the other looking for things that were hairy, shiney, soft, usefull, etc. The kids had a great time and the activity distracted them from thoughts about their lack of visitors. In fact, one girl on my team was called to the school because her father and brother had arrived to visit her, and she refused to leave the game to see them. She actually ran off and hid in one of the older girls homes to avoid being sent to the school. I spent at least an hour walking around the ranch looking for her. I was very frustrated and still have no idea why she didn't want to see her family.

After the scavenger hunt we went to the pond for hotdogs and swimming. Unfortunately, we were not able to swim because the water was too low and stagnant, which meant there was a possibility of dangerous microorganisms. Because we were not able to swim, time passed slowly at the pond. This was also the time of day when those kids who had been waiting in the school all morning for visitors who never showed up were sent to us to be entertained for the rest of the day. These kids all handled this situation differently. Some arrived at the pond sad and disappointed that their families had said they would be visiting and didn't show up. Others arrived happy to be able to participate in our acitivities and happy to stop the process of waiting around in the school. These kids also said that it was more difficult to be in the school watching all of the other families play and celebrate their time together.

After the pond, we moved to the park in front of the volunteer home for pinatas, cake and party bags. This was everyone's favorite part of the day. I was in charge of the older girls pinata, which sounds easy, but the older girls become little girls at the site of a pinata and candy. After about 3 whacks at Dora the pinata, she went flying through the air and landed on the ground with just a small hole in the head. The girls pounced on Dora attempting to tear off all of her limbs. Thankfully, Candy, another volunteer grabbed the pinata and started running while spewing candy on the ground. (I am really sorry that I don't have a picture of this, but it just happened so fast!) This was great because we eliminated the inevitable whack on the head while diving under the pinata for candy; the pushing, shoving and sometimes punching fight for the last peice of candy and finally the domination of the pinata by the biggest strongest girl. The down side is that the bigger girls were finished before the others and ran to steal candy from the pinata of the small kids. Like I said everyone looses control at the site of the pinata.

As a whole, the day was a success! By the end everyone was exhausted, emotionally and physically.

El Salvador Trip

Route: NPH Rancho Santa Fe>Tegucigalpa, Honduras (night 1)>San Salvador, El Salvador (night 2)>La Libertad>El Trunco>La Libertad (night 3)>San Salvador>San Miguel>Jocoro (night 4)>Santa Rosa>El Salvador-Honduras border>San Miguel (night 5)>San Salvador>Santa Ana (night 6)>San Salvador>Tegucigalpa (night 7)>NPH Rancho Santa Fe

Once upon a time, two beautiful gringas decided to travel from Honduras to El Salvador…

Looking back, my trip to El Salvador was a great one and without a doubt the most educating of all of my travels thus far. We, Brooke and I, began our adventure with one night in Tegus in our usual hotel Granada. Nothing eventful occurred that night since we both committed the night to one bottle of wine, which we couldn’t even finish (Where did my tolerance go?), and unlimited TV watching. The next morning we took a very early bus out of Tegus that went directly to San Salvador. We were excited to see that there were not many passengers, allowing us our own pair of seats in which to lie down. Unfortunately, the bus ride was a bit turbulent (many winding roads at top speed) making it difficult to sleep. On the positive side, I got a great core workout just keeping my body in the chairs. Brooke actually fell asleep for a minute and was immediately thrown to the floor.

Surprisingly, we arrived in San Salvador safely. We questioned a very well fed woman (aka obese) if it was possible to walk to the center of the city and she told us that we were skinny enough to do it, so we walked the 5 min (!!!) to get to the center. We found our hotel and were told that we could take a bus to get to the very popular restaurant/bar area, Zona Rosa. About 3 blocks from where we boarded, we saw what looked like it should be Zona Rosa, but figured it couldn’t be that close if we were told to take the bus. Thirty minutes later and fully sweat soaked, we arrived back at the original stop having gotten the cheapest (20 cents) tour of the city of San Salvador. We went to one of the many roadside restaurants and refreshed ourselves with a bucket of beer. For dinner, we finally settled on “American” quesadillas (Does anyone else see the irony here?) because the waitress repeatedly told us that they did not have the ingredients to complete each menu item we attempted to order.

Brooke woke up the following morning with what seemed to be a bad case of pink eye. Because her eye was very swollen, I asked the hostel manager for ice. Without even questioning the reason, she handed me a very dirty plastic ice pack. (Don’t people usually ask for ice to put in their drink? Oh well, worked out in our favor.) After Brooke finally pried her eye open, we left the hostel to find medication and the bus to our next destination, La Libertad (the beach!)

When we arrived in La Libertad, we walked around the city looking for a place to stay. Of course we were attracted to the shady Hotel Surf. We thought we were getting a great deal when the owner told us we could have a room with air conditioning, private bathroom, 2 double beds, microwave and fridge for $15. Little did we know that the toilet didn’t flush because the handle was broken, the sink and shower didn’t work because the plumbing system couldn’t get the water up to the second floor and the foul smell was a result of the bathroom not being clean, which the owner promised she would clean while we were out (!?!?!) We took a walk down to the pier where the fisherman were selling raw fish and shrimp. This is where I had the best food of the trip. I paid $2 for a big bowl of fresh ceviche made on the pier! It was delicious. We met some guys from San Salvador in for the weekend to surf who told us that we should really be staying in El Trunco, which is the touristy beach town where all of the extranjeros go to surf. (We later learned that La Libertad is dangerous enough that the Peace Corps volunteers are prohibited from staying the night there.) We took a taxi to El Trunco and immediately fell in love with the small surf town. They even had a great coffee shop that had soy milk (unheard of!). We spent the rest of the evening drinking beers on the second level dock and watching the huge waves soak the dock below. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped into a small convenience store/home to buy one more beer. Inside, the family (mother, father and 2 small children) who owned the store were having a nice quiet dinner, which we very definitely interrupted. There was a time when I would have thought this odd, but it is the case in so many shops that I didn’t even blink.

The next morning we found that the only way to bathe in the hotel was by bucket, so I took my first bucket shower. I was relieved to see that the water in the bucket was crystal clear, which is more than I can say for the water we typically bathe in on the ranch. After the “shower”, we attempted to go to the beach, but found that there really wasn’t much of a beach as we know it, so we took the bus back to San Salvador. We traveled from San Salvador to a small pueblo near the Honduran boarder called Jocoro, where we had made arrangements to couch surf with Brian, a Peace Corp volunteer. Jocoro was great and Brian introduced us to many of the local people. It was here that we finally ate pupusas, the national food of El Salvador. It is a cheese filled tortilla that typically comes topped with a slaw of cabbage, onions and carrots. Delicious and perfect for the vegetarian diet. We spent the night in Brian’s room on a mattress. He lived in a single room with a back porch and outdoor bathroom and shower (again, by bucket, but thankfully not the same bucket used to flush the toilet). We were feeling very thankful for the “luxurious” living conditions we have on the ranch.

The next morning we hopped on a bus that took us to the border. When we handed our passports and residency cards to the immigration official he asked us if we were aware of the political state of Honduras. We quickly assured him that we were aware and that we lived in Tegus. He confirmed that we knew that the previously exiled President Zelaya had returned to the country and that there was an indefinite curfew throughout the whole country prohibiting any kind of travel, including the buses across the border. I am sure our shocked faces were somewhat comical. We had heard nothing of the sort. As we debated our next move, he processed our return to Honduras. When we decided it would be better to stay in El Salvador, we had to walk around the building and enter the country all over again. I had noticed a nice looking hotel when passing through San Miguel, about 2 hours away, and we decided to go back there and wait for news. It was a bit expensive, but had a pool, so we were finally able to get the sun that we had been deprived at the beach. We constantly checked the TV news and internet for any information we could find about what had occurred and what was happening in Tegus as a result. Of course, the news made it sound like Tegus was being burned to the ground.

The next morning we decided that we couldn’t stay in San Miguel another night because it was expensive and we weren’t feeling very safe walking around the small and boring city. Since we had no idea how long the curfew would go on and when we would be able to return, I decided that it would be a good idea to try to find the NPH El Salvador house where we could sleep and eat for free. We took a bus to San Salvador then another on to Santa Ana, which was the city address of the NPH house. When we arrived in Santa Ana, we learned that, like NPH Honduras, the El Salvador house was in fact about 1 hour outside the city. Nobody knew where the house was located and there didn’t seem to be buses that passed the house. It was getting late and we decided to find a place to stay in Santa Ana. Luckily, we decided on a hostel that was nearby the mall where we were doing our hotel research via internet. The hostel was, in fact, a large, beautiful home owned by a single man, Javier. There were 2 large rooms with single beds (usually they are bunk beds) and because there was only one other girl staying there, Brooke and I were able to have our own room and bathroom. The house was decorated very well with objects from all over the world. It was very clean and I was even able to take a hot shower without my shoes! (Most people know that this is unheard of in a hostel.) We spent the evening talking with Javier and catching up on the news. I think that he was disappointed when we all decided to go to bed early.

The next morning, we learned that the curfew had been lifted and the bus would be running between San Salvador and Tegus. We quickly packed up and headed back to the city. The bus ride back to Tegus was uneventful until I got a call saying that they had just announced a curfew beginning at 7 pm. This was the exact time we were supposed to arrive and there was no way we would be able to travel the 45 min back to the ranch. I was even worried that we would not be able to find a taxi to take us to a hotel and the bus station is in one of the worst areas of Tegus. Luckily, a friend offered to pick us up and we spent the night back in the Granada right where we had started.

Mom and Dad Visit Honduras

I had been looking forward to my parents visit since before it was even planned. It is so difficult to describe Honduras and The Ranch over the phone. I was so excited for them to finally see the things I talked about and meet the people I described to them each time we talked.

As we drove from the airport to The Ranch, Uli and I pointed out notable places in the city and Uli gave us some great history of Tegucigalpa that even I didn't know. As we pulled into the ranch, I pointed out the various buildings (clinic, school, tallere, etc.) that they had heard so much about. I think they were surprised that I have been able to live so far outside the city and in the woods for the past 8 months.

As is typical of Honduras and the ranch, we were celebrating dia del nino (day of the child), which required a full day of planning and full day of celebration, which meant I wouldn't be doing any therapy while my parents were here. It was a little disappointing because they didn't get to see what a typical day was like, but also fun because we played games and interacted with the kids. However, as is also typical, the day was very chaotic and tiring. I think that it was a little overwhelming for them and made worse by the face that they didn't understand what anyone was saying. I also didn't really realize how much we have to walk to get around the ranch until they pointed it out and looked haggered by the end of each day.

For me, one of the most important things to show them was the hogar where I spend my nights with my 14-16 year old girls and their tias (caregivers). We spent 2 nights in hogar with the girls and again I think they were a little overwhelmed, but the girls loved meeting them and tried hard to communicate with them. One night the tias cooked tajaditas (fried plantian chips) for them, so that they could try a homemade traditional food. I love tajaditas, but I am not sure they were very impressed. Also, this was after we had just finished a dinner with a small group of girls from my hogar. We cooked Baleadas for them, which is another traditional Honduran food that consists of a flour tortilla filled with scrambled eggs, beans and a cream called mantequilla. This event was really fun for me and I was so proud of how well behaved the girls were around my parents.

After 3 days on the ranch, my parents were ready to move on the Roatan for a short beach vacation. I think they had eaten enough traditional Honduran food and were ready to get to a location where they could communicate with people. We arrived at our hotel in Roatan and were a little disappointed to find that it wasn't exactly on the beach and wasn't the fancy resort style we had been looking forward to. We stayed in a cabin situated on the rocks at the end of the West Bay beach. However, it didn't take us long to appreciate the small community of the hotel and enjoy waking up to the same faces every morning. Every employee of the hotel knew who we were and greeted us by name throughout the day. The hotel had its own dive shop and I was able to scuba dive privately with the dive master for one day and with only 4 of us the second day. This was much better than the large dive groups we saw leaving from the other hotels. The weather in Roatan was not ideal because it was extremely hot and we spent a lot of time laying in the air conditioned room or floating in the ocean. It was a vacation full of rest:) Another downer was the presence of sand fleas who covered us in bites the first day that just got worse as time passed. We had been warned of these, but never could have imagined the damage they could do without being seen or felt. On the upside, mom and dad totally spoiled me by feeding me very well and surrounding me with the things that we don't have on the ranch. I soaked up the air conditioning at every oportunity, ate a lot of fresh sea food and vegetables and the best was watching college and pro football while sipping on cold beers.

It was great to see them and finally I can tell stories about the ranch and they will be able to visualize the places and people. I also think it opened their eyes to the life and situations of the kids.

Olympiadas

Definition (after)
Olympiadas - an awesome demonstration of team spirit and a great way to get to know new people. A great way to teach the kids team work and that hard work pays off and is something to be proud of.

Well, its Sunday and Olympiadas is finally over. I am feeling a little bit like I always do after a big race: what now? Our days have been filled with preparations and now that it is over, what do I do with myself? Unlike after a race, I am pretty confident that this feeling will not last more that 24 hours. I am going to be very happy to have time for myself.

The Olympiadas activities began on Friday with presentations from each team. I was very poorly informed on what the presentation was supposed to contain. My team just told me to make up a dance. Which I did. They tried to tell me that the dance should be 7 min. long, which seemed like an absurdly long dance to me and I know that nobody wants to see me dance for that long, so our dance was 2 min and 50 seconds. (This was also the maximum capacity of dance moves that my fellow teammates and dancers could memorize. Not surprising since they were all between the ages of 8 and 13) Well, I found out on Friday night (way too late!) that we were supposed to develop a “show” presenting our country and value (Jamaica and peace, in our case) that included a dance. This is very different than just making up a dance. There were some amazing presentations and of course we were sandwiched right in between 2 of the best. However, we had fun and didn’t completely humiliate ourselves, just partially. Every team had to make a flag representing their country and value and there were some pretty amazing flags, including ours, which I can say because I had nothing to do with it. They began the night with a flag presentation in which a representative from each team circled the auditorium waving the flags. It was much cooler than I can put into words. Although it was a little long, the night was really fun!

We woke up bright and early Saturday morning and went to a service in the church where we prayed for everyone’s safety during the games (at the time I had no idea how appropriate this was), they lit the olympiadas torch and blessed it with holy water. We then made our way down to the school where the games were held. My team began with the Deslizador, which was a giant slip and slide that had a basket ball hoop and the end. It was one of my favorite games. We only lost by one point. Next we went to the game named “Who is the king?”. This was designed as a boxing ring, without the protective side ropes, of course. The object of the game was to push your opponent off of the surface which was raised about 4 feet off the ground. As we were waiting our turn to play, an older girl (who is learning disabled and very uncoordinated) was forced off the edge and crashed to the ground twisting her ankle and bruising her knee…shocker! I am sorry to say that my team lost this game, but proud to say that nobody was able to push me off even when they ganged up on me 3 to 1. From there we moved to Hockey, which obviously the Hondurans are very unfamiliar with. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell them that there is a rule that the stick can not go above the shoulders and our game turned into a combination of hockey and baseball. I am shocked that nobody lost a full mouth of teeth. The next game was a giant obstacle course that involved a lot of running (love it!), crawling on the ground, and monkey bars (these are much more difficult as a fat old lady than they were as a small child). This was another of my favorites and my team actually did well. Next was the long jump and we elected 5 people from our team to represent us. Considering I can no longer jump more than a few inches off the ground, I was not elected to play. Next was the trivia challenge, which again we lost by only one point (you can begin to see the trend hereJ). Following that, we went to the very clever game named “Clean our environment”. I found this game very funny considering they gave us 3 trash bags and told us the object of the game was to fill the bags with trash laying around the school. They didn’t even time it. I must remember this cleaning tactic for future activities organized for kids. Afterwards, we got soaking wet playing a game that included removing the water from one barrel and putting it into another using giant sponges. And finally, we terminated the Olympic games with the tug of war in a giant mud pit. Our team didn’t even have a chance to win due to the fact that we were composed mostly of young kids and the other team of older kids and adults. It took about 15 seconds for the other team to drag all of us through the mud, but it was a blast and even the kids who had barely participated all day jumped into the mud to help out.

After lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon playing field day type games on the school basketball courts. It was a great flash back to elementary school with the 3 legged race, popping balloons by sitting on them, etc. Finally, at 4:00 we were able to drag ourselves back to the house, shower and nap before going to the awards party, but unfortunately, the party was rained out. It was a great weekend and although the preparation was time consuming and at times very frustrating, it was totally worth it!!

Olympiadas Prep

Definition (before):
Olympiadas - A ridiculous waste of time and energy in order to bring everyone on the ranch together; an opportunity to show case the typical Honduran way of doing things which is disorganized and as inefficient as possible; typically a series of meetings about what is going to happen in the next meeting; one night of dance contest, mural contest, flag contest and mascot contest; another day full of team games and activities (this day actually seems like the only worthwhile part of the ordeal)
-Stay tuned for the “after” definition

So, we have begun preparing for Olympiadas. We have 3 weeks to throw together a dance, costumes, a mascot, a team flag and a mural. All of this needs to represent our assigned country, Jamaica, and assigned value, peace. My team has met 3 times and, so far, we have none of the above. I have been put in charge of the music, which isn’t too bad, except that I have to find Jamaican music that can be made into a dance for a range of talent and ages. I love reggae as much as the next person, but have any of you ever tried to choreograph a dance to it, not easy. Also complicating things is the fact that half of the team doesn’t show up to the meetings and they refuse to volunteer to participate in anything. Everyone keeps telling me that everything will fall together at the last minute. When I was in college, I pretty much lived my academic life in this manner, but since then I have been more of a planner and preparer. This event is definitely testing my ability to be flexible and open minded.

Military Coup

I suppose somewhere in my educational history I have heard the term military coup, but I don’t think that I ever knew what it meant. Well, they say the best way to learn is first hand. I guess I am lucky to have that opportunity. I don’t think what has happened in Honduras is a true military coup, but I guess that is the closest word anyone can find to define what has happened. I first realized that something was up when I was in the city center and there were large groups of protestors and the newspapers were sporting big headlines that said the president wanted to end democracy. This was before the president disappeared and when he was trying to change the constitution. I think that the part about “ending democracy” was a little sensationalist, but I guess the president hasn’t been too popular in his term and changing the constitution would have allowed him to run for a second 4 year term, which doesn’t normally happen here as it does in the states.

The next time I was in the city center was the day the president was arrested and taken to Costa Rica. We were traveling back to the ranch from a weekend in La Tigra and didn’t have any choice but to go through the center. We had heard rumors of protests and mobs, but it was eerily silent and almost a ghost town when we walked through. This was a big difference from the usual bustling crowds, so there was definitely something up, just not what we had heard or expected. From that moment on, we have been prisoners on the ranch. They have advised everyone, Honduran and foreign, to stay where they are and they even have a curfew in the city. I have not left the ranch in 8 days and already I am getting cabin fever. It is also frustrating to be here, and so disconnected from what is going on in the outside world. We (the volunteers) have no TV or radio, so we are relying on what we can find on the internet and what we hear from family and friends. However, this was initially difficult considering “they” (no idea who “they” are) were shutting down the electricity, phones and internet for random periods of time throughout the day. That has stopped for now and hopefully forever. It is a little scary knowing that “they” can completely shut us off from the world whenever “they” want. Last week, there was no school because they didn’t think it was safe for the teachers to be traveling everyday to and from the ranch. I tried to do physical therapy with as many kids as I could in their hogars, but this was difficult considering I didn’t have any of my therapy resources and all of the other kids were running around or trying to participate. I spent most of the week “working” with the girls from my hogar. The best part was rolling out of bed around 9 each day to make it to hogar before 10. At 10, the girls had finished their chores and had to “chopear” in various parts of the ranch. Chopearing is cutting the grass with machetes. This was my first experience and, as I had been thinking, it was much more difficult than it looked. When the kids swing the machetes at the base of each blade of grass, there is a whirlwind of grass and weeds that swirls around them and the end result is a nice patch of trim grass. However, when I tried it, I clumsily swung the blade through the grass causing a nice breeze and ending with exactly what I started except maybe a fallen dandelion or two. Of course, my girls got a big kick out of watching me. They tried to instruct me, but I really didn’t improve at all during the week. All I managed to get out of it was a bunch of blisters on my hands and an arm that I couldn’t lift above 45 degrees (and this was only after 10-15 min of chopearing). Needless to say, we were all overjoyed to hear that classes would resume this week.

At this point, the president, is trying to get back into the country, but so far, he has been unsuccessful. Yesterday, the military covered the airport runway with vehicles so that he couldn’t land. The word today is that Obama has given him permission to land at a nearby US Military base. From what I have read and heard, the public opinion towards Americans has been declining throughout this ordeal due to the support that the US has been giving the unpopular president. I imagine that the opinion will plummet if he actually lands on the base. Here on the ranch everyone is very rational and nobody has expressed any anger towards us. However, some of the younger Pequenos that are in the city have not been so friendly or understanding. One of the volunteers, who has befriended some of the high school and university students, has been receiving some hate mail from them recently. None of it is violent, just requesting that we all return to where we came from. I really hope that it doesn’t come to that.

Adendum (8/16/09): I had my first close encounter with a violent mob on Wednesday. I was passing through the center of the city on my way back to the ranch from work and found a mob of people in the park protesting the government. I quickly changed my route to avoid the park and ran into a line of police and military in full riot gear. This was unsettling but better than the angry mob. I was trying to make my way around the center to get to the buses that would take me out of the city and had to avoid overturned news stands and broken glass that littered the streets from all of the store fronts that had been assulted with rocks. The streets were lined with curious people who were hiding in doorways and behind barred store fronts. All of a sudden everyone around me began running. I have no idea why or what we were running from, but I figured it was in my best interest to join the crowd and get away from whatever it was. Next to me was a woman running with an infant, crazy! I turned onto another street and was able to stop running and just watched curiously with the rest of the crowd. I was extremely worried that I was not going to be able to find transportation back to the bus stop to get back to the ranch, but thankfully, the minibuses were running and I got out of there as soon as possible. I am considering myself lucky for not having been there any earlier when all of the major violence happened. It was a good wake-up call for the actual political state that we are in and how fast dangerous things can happen.

Born in the USA

Growing up in the United States is a privilege that we are all aware of, but only in the sense that we have been told our entire lives. The reality is that we have no understanding of how lucky we are. Spending the last 6 months in Honduras has made me very aware of the luxuries and opportunities that we take advantage of in the US. This is something that I was even more aware of upon returning to the states for a visit.

I arrived in Miami and my 4 hour layover turned in to a 6 hour layover due to thunderstorms. However, I was perfectly content enjoying the “luxuries” of the airport and didn’t mind the extra time at all. I passed the time freely (only in the sense of availability, not in the sense of money since I had to pay a pretty penny for the time) surfing the internet, drinking American beer and using the bathroom where I could throw the toilet paper into the toilet rather than an overflowing stinky trash can. I was in American made heaven. The strangest thing that I encountered in the airport was being in a public place where everyone around me was speaking English. This was made even more confusing by the fact that many of those people where Latin American. I repeatedly spoke to the bartender and woman serving food in Spanish, which I think confused them more than me.

When I finally arrived in Chicago, I sunk into the big, beautiful, comfortable guest bed of my friend, Divya, who was putting me up for the weekend. I don’t think I have ever slept so well in my life. This amazing comfort continued with each bed throughout my one week stay and that includes the night spent on the couch of my old Chicago apartment. It was amazing to have the room to spread out my arms and legs, roll over and reposition my body without getting stuck between any wooden slats below the mattress.

The culture shock that I experienced during my first few days in the states was much greater than I had anticipated. I believe this had to do with the fact that my first weekend was luxurious even for my pre-Honduras middle class American standards. I kicked off the trip with a visit to my old Chicago salon, which is located on the Gold Coast neighborhood. As most people know, this is one of the best and most expensive areas of downtown, so walking around that part of the city was a huge change from the dirty streets of Tegucigalpa. I took the CTA bus with a whole new appreciation for public transportation. I was so comfortable during this bus ride because I had my very own seat where nobody was touching or invading my personal space. Also, when it was time for me to get off the bus, I freely stood up and walked through the empty isle and down the stairs. It was such a pleasant experience compared to the buses of Central America.

I filled the rest of my vacation days trying to experience everything that I had been missing from the states. This included eating all of the foods that I love that aren’t available in Honduras. I had hummus, sushi, Starbucks, Thai food, a veggie burger, good beer and wine and much more. I would venture to say that I gained a good 5 pounds throughout the week. Strangely, my stomach wasn’t a big fan of all of the “good” food I was feeding it. I was fairly uncomfortable all week. Of course, as soon as I returned to the familiar beans and rice diet, my stomach was fine. How strange it is to experience exactly the opposite thing as when I first arrived in Honduras. I also spent some time (not as much as I would have liked) laying on my parents couch (luxury at its best) catching up on all of my favorite TV shows. I have to admit I don’t think I was really missing anything there, but just the act of watching TV any time I wanted was great. I did some shopping, which isn’t the best activity for someone who makes $100 a month. However, I really wanted to get some things for my girls that they couldn’t get in Honduras. I ended up buying one of every teeny bopper magazine that I could find. It turned out to be the best gift I could have gotten them. The hogar is now covered with posters of The Jonas Brothers, Zac Efron, Rhianna and many more.

It was a great trip and I really enjoyed seeing everyone. However, returning to Honduras was really difficult. I had to readjust to the living conditions and way of life all over again, but this time it was more difficult because I didn’t have the excitement of being in a new place and starting a new adventure. It was just coming back to life as usual here on the ranch. I spent the first week in a mild depression and easily got frustrated with the dirtiness and lack of technology. (It was made worse by the fact that our washing machine was not working and I had to wash my clothes by hand.) Each week has been a little easier and by now I have adjusted and am happy to be here again.

Terremoto!

Terremoto=Earthquake. So, I finally felt my first earthquake! I woke up around 3 on Thursday morning to the violent shaking of my bed. Although I had never felt it before, my first thought was EARTHQUAKE. However, I looked at my roommate who was sleeping soundly and did a quick inventory of all of the things on the shelf above my head and concluded that I must have been dreaming. I quickly fell back asleep with little concern. I woke up later (4 am) when my roommate, Marta´s, phone rang. It was her mother calling, which in my sleepy stupor I thought was totally resonable since, given the time difference, it was the middle of the afternoon in Spain. After hanging up, Marta got on the internet and told me (in rapid spanish) that someone had died in San Pedro Sula due to a terremoto. I grunted as if I had a clue about what she was saying and then made a mental note (which I had no hope of remembering) to look up the word terremoto in the morning. Hours later, my alarm went of at its usual hour and I got up, got ready, had breakfast and went to work. Later that day, I recieved a text message asking if I was alright after the earthquake. I jumped up and ran across the school yard to the room of Candy, another volunteer, and questioned her about the quake. She told me that there had actually been an earthquake that was fairly stong and had done damage on the coast. I hadn´t been dreaming! I couldn´t believe that it had taken all morning for me to hear that information. Especially since the ranch is in its own small world and word travels very fast. So, the rest of the day was like a bad flashback to hurricane season in Florida. Nobody talked about anything but the earthquake and everyone speculated on whether or not there would be an aftershock or a tsunami. Fortunately neither occured and as far as I can tell, there was no damage in this area. The moral of the story: don´t live anywhere near me because natural disasters are sure to follow!

Nicaragua Trip (really long-read at your own risk)

I spent 5 days during the Semana Santa vacation traveling around Nicaragua with another volunteer, Emily. Here are some of the highlights:
Day 1: I arrive at the Tica bus station 2 hours before the bus leaves for Managua because it is the most popular travel week of the year, I have no tickets or reservations and this is the only direct bus leaving on this particular day. There is a couple already there purchasing tickets for the same trip and I overhear the salesman tell them that they can’t choose their seats because there are no more available. I silently freak out in my head, but wait patiently for my turn. The man sells me a ticket, which I later learn is the final ticket for this bus.

I spend all day on the bus watching first a movie (in English, yea!) and then old eighties MTV videos (hilarious, can’t believe anyone ever thought they were good). During our only stop, which was at the Honduras/Nicaragua border, a nice German girl introduces herself to me and asks if I am traveling alone because she is and would like company while finding a place to stay in Managua for safety. I tell her that I am meeting Emily in Managua (Emily had left 3 days before me.), but that she is welcome to join us in finding a hostel to spend the night.
Day 2: Emily, I and our new friend (we can’t remember her name) catch a bus to Granada in the morning. We arrive in Granada and soon after, meet a man (speaking great English) in the central park, who leads us to a really cute hostel (this is a very common job) where we secure beds and drop our backpacks. We spend the entire day walking around Granada. I LOVE Granada! It is an adorable little touristy town that is really clean, for CA standards, and has great shops, coffee shops and restaurants. It lies on the coast of Lake Nicaragua, which is almost the size of Lake Michigan. I could have spent more time there, but we were on a mission to get to the island of Ometepe and didn’t have any extra time.

For the evening, we got dolled up and hit the town for a nice dinner and some dancing at the town’s most popular club.
Day 3: We are told that the usual bus to Rivas (the town where we will get the bus to the ferry that goes to Ometepe) isn’t running due to the holiday. We decide to walk over to the bus area anyways to see if there are any other options. Of course there are plenty of other buses that will take us to Rivas and a driver tells us that his bus is leaving in 10 minutes. We board a bus and proceed to sweat for the next 45 min as the bus slowly fills to about double it’s capacity. Finally, the bus leaves and we soon arrive in Rivas. From Rivas, we take another bus to San Jorge, where we board a very questionable looking ferry to the island of Ometepe. This ferry ride was the second most frightening of my life (please refer to earlier blog for the first). This was a wooden boat that, due to the holiday, was probably filled (again) to double it’s capacity. By luck of the draw, I get stuck on the lower level of the boat while Emily and our German friend, along with another new friend, Monica, who used to work at NPH Mexico, are safely stationed on the upper level. As we pull away from the dock, I notice that the boat is more than slightly tilted to the left side (my side) and not leveling out. In addition it is making a horrible moaning sound not unlike that on the movie “Titanic”. As the people around me are happily chatting and guzzling beers sold by a smart Nicaraguan entrepreneur, I am inching my way closer to the ten visible life preservers and mentally planning my escape route for when the boat capsizes. At this point, one of the novel attractions of Lake Nicaragua: the home of the only species of fresh water bull sharks, is throwing a wrench in my plans to swim back to shore. Fortunately, I don’t have to carry out my plan and we arrive safely on the volcanic island.

As is true of the entire trip, we arrive on the island without a hotel reservation and really don’t even know on what part of the island we would like to spend the night. We hop on a bus (the last of the day) that circles the island and decide that we will get off at Playa Santo Domingo because the guide book recommends it and the name is nice. We exit the bus and our German friend, who we have finally figured out is named, remains because she has to stay at a hostel near the ferry in order to return to the mainland early the next morning. (This bus ride is her only activity while on the island.) At the first hotel in our path, we are told that there are no vacant rooms or beds in the town, but we can rent a mattress on the floor of the lobby for $6 a night. (This is more than we paid for any other rooms during the trip.) We figure the woman is bluffing just like all the people who keep telling us there are no busses or ferries due to the holiday, so we move on to the next hotel to inquire. We are told repeatedly that there are no rooms or even hammocks available for the night, so we return to the not so friendly mattress lady and secure our sleeping arrangements for the night. As Emily is showering in the beach side shower in her bathing suit, I discover that Monica, our NPH friend from the bus is sitting at the table next to me and I strike up a conversation. As it turns out, she is also going to be joining our lobby slumber party along with another American couple. We all get to know each other over dinner and a couple of drinks then retire early to our lobby accommodations.
Day 4: We wake up bright and early, pack our bags then head to the neighboring hotel to hire a guide to lead us up Volcan Maderas, the smaller and inactive one of the 2 volcanoes on the island. Monica decides to join us. We spend the entire day hiking up the volcano, which is 8 hours round trip. It is easily the most challenging hike I have ever done, which isn’t saying much considering the only other hike I have done in my life was just a few months ago dragging my sick self up Mt Si with Hopper and Dan. This hike was more challenging because it was much more steep and the top half of the climb was in a cloud forest which caused the path to be very wet and slippery. However, climbing down into the crater of the volcano and hanging out in the lake situated in the center was worth all of the pains of getting there.

After the hike, we were all covered in mud and I am sure not smelling our best. Unfortunately, we still had the chore of finding a place to stay for the night and had decided to return to Moyogalpa, the town where the ferry would leave from the following morning. Monica had heard about a hostel while in Granada that was there and known to be popular with backpackers. Due to the fact that there were no buses running that day on island (again due to the holiday), we hitched a ride along with a young family in the back of the truck of a young man and his girlfriend. We had to negotiate a price since in Nicaragua, unlike Honduras, it is common to pay for hitchhikes. We arrived very tired and still dirty at the hostel only to be told that they only had one open bed. However, after Monica flirted with the owner and threw out some names of mutual acquaintances, 2 more beds magically became available. Little did we know that this was by far the dirtiest and most uncomfortable of all of the places we would stay. However, by that point we didn’t care and the atmosphere was really fun due to all of the young backpackers staying there. We finally showered and cleaned up before sitting down to a great dinner and some beers with some guys that Monica met as I was showering. A crazy night ensued that ended with Emily and I crawling through all of the other backpackers to climb into our very narrow and wobbly top bunks without sheets or pillows and Monica making out with a handsome hippie Costa Rican man in the courtyard of the hotel.
Day 5: We fall out of bed and practically sleep walk our way onto a much more secure looking ferry boat back to the mainland. We have to back track our way by bus back to Managua and then on to Esteli, where we spend the night in order to be close to the Honduran boarder for the chicken bus boarder crossing journey the next and final day of our trip.
Day 6: We take 5 buses hopping from small town to town, crossing the boarder and finally ending up in Tegucigalpa where we run into some fellow volunteers and the director of the ranch who thank goodness gives us a ride back, allowing us to avoid the final bus ride and the dreaded ½ mile walk from the ranch gate back to our house. Although I was dead tired and had been dreaming of my bed all day, I realized as we entered the house that I had really missed the ranch, my girls and all the other volunteers and proceeded to spend the rest of the night catching up with everyone on all that we had missed and telling some of the more funny stories from the trip.

Molly Visits the Ranch

When I announced that I was moving to Honduras to volunteer as a PT at an orphanage, there were numerous people who said that they had always wanted to do something similar, but didn’t want to commit to a year of service. With this in mind, I sent a mass e-mail to all of my therapist friends inviting everyone to visit me on the ranch to help me out with my work with the kids for 1-2 weeks. Surprisingly, Molly, a co-worker (and friend) from La Rabida jumped at the chance to visit and help out. She also graciously agreed to bring a walker that I had requested as a donation from Mike, an equipment rep in Chicago.

Molly arrived on a Wednesday and because she was bringing a much needed (and very large) donation, I was able to arrange for transportation and my boss, Kate, met her at the airport. Although she arrived in the late morning, Molly didn’t arrive on the Ranch until the evening because Kate kidnapped her for the afternoon and dragged her all over Tegus. (Actually, the transport guy, Manuel, had to run a bunch of errands in the city and they took the opportunity to visit the mall, which means Molly’s first exposure to Tegus was ironically the most/only Americanized part.) When she did finally arrive, it was just in time to join me for the evening in hogar with my girls. Of course all of the girls loved having her there all week and we spent most of the time just talking with them. Molly shocked me with her Spanish and willingness to try to speak to all of the girls. It also boosted my confidence in my Spanish skills as I was able to translate for her.

One big project that I had scheduled for Molly and I during her visit was making bi-valved casts for two of the girls here with cerebral palsy (or what appears to be CP). We spent all morning Friday making these casts and I am so thankful that she was here because I couldn’t have done it without her.

After casting, we headed off to spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast type place near the National Park, La Tigra. It is a cabin owned by a German couple who moved to Honduras 11 years ago. The cabin is immaculately clean and incredibly comfortable. As soon as we arrived, we took off for a hike through the park to a very popular waterfall. The hike started off going straight uphill and Molly and I huffed and puffed our way up behind our 60 year old guide as he huffed and puffed his way through the first of many cigarettes. The hike took a total of 3 hours and by then end, our guide had finished about 10 cigarettes, married us off to several random Honduran men and Molly and I felt we had fulfilled our desire to be out-doorsy and active for the weekend. When we returned to the cabin we relaxed and enjoyed the amazing view. The most amazing part about this particular place is the food, which is vegetarian and not typical Honduran dishes. Also, the owners have put a lot of effort into making their dining room homey and the view from the many windows is beautiful. We ate dinner with the couple (an older German woman and young Honduran man) who was staying in the only other room at the cabin. It was a fairly awkward dinner since Molly spoke English, I spoke English and rough Spanish, the German woman understood all of the three languages, but spoke Spanish and the Honduran spoke only Spanish. Also, I am pretty sure we had nothing in common with them even without the language barriers. However, we were all enjoying the food and wine and the conversation revolved around that. Molly and I retired a bit early to avoid the uncomfortable silences that followed dinner. The next morning, we stuffed ourselves with an amazing breakfast (outside on the porch overlooking the valley below) of homemade bread, lemonade, coffee and jam. Then we set out on what turned out to be another long hike down the mountain to the bus stop. I think Molly surprised herself with her cardiovascular endurance and perseverance.

Throughout her trip, Molly also got a good taste of the Honduran “work” ethic and prioritizing. During her first week, one entire day was spent preparing and celebrating the “Day of the Worker”, which is of course an occasion that requires the cancellation of school and a party for all of those who work in the school. Work was halted during the second week for a big celebration for Mother’s Day, which again required cancelling classes and another party. This was nice, but I was a little disappointed that Molly was unable to work with some of the kids I had scheduled for those days. However, it was an accurate representation of what work is like here on the ranch. All in all, it was great to have Molly here and she helped tremendously with all of the kids’ therapy.

Semana Santa Camping Trip

Well, as some of you may know, I am not much of a camper, but now that I have camped in Honduras, I think that I can camp anywhere. The boys on the ranch camped at the Rio Grande Friday and Saturday and the girls camped Sunday and Monday. As is turns out, the girls definitely got the shaft on that schedule. The boys had to set up all of the tents, but trashed the campsite and clogged all of the toilets. Also, it was terrible when all of the volunteers from the boys side returned on Sunday to share their horrer stories from the trip and we had to pack up and leave for that very same trip several hours later.

Despite all of the things working against us, we had a GREAT time! After arriving at the campsite, we all claimed tents and I shared a tent with 7 of my girls. Because I had to leave a day early on the public bus, I wasn't able to bring much to make myself comfortable in the tent. Everyone else had brought mattresses to sleep on and my tia graciously donated a sleeping bag to cushion the ground. However, this didn't offer much for comfort. After claiming our spots, we all ate dinner and then the tias dragged out a TV and VCR to show a movie to the little girls while the older girls gossiped, flirted with the townie boys and played soccer. Sleeping was a bit of a challenge since there were roosters crowing all throughout the night. (So I now know first hand that the rooster crowing at dawn is simply a myth.) It would have been a challenge anyways since I was basicly sleeping on gravel with no pillow and only a sheet to cover myself. Despite the fact that we were sweating all day in the sun, it was very cool during the night and I had to lend all of my extra blankets to the girls who brought nothing to cover themselves.

After a very rough night of sleep, we woke up with the sun (as everyone typically does while camping, but it is particularly easier for these girls who have to wake up at 5 in the morning every day). The tias cooked a delicious breakfast of eggs, beans and tortillas over the open fire (very impressive). After which, we all put on our bathing suits or something that could act as a bathing suit and headed down to the river. This was the most entertaining part of the trip. I have never seen such creativity when it comes to bathing suit/clothing. According to my tia, bathing suits are simpley not worn alone because the Honduran men (and there are many just hanging around the river to watch) enjoy looking at scantily clad women and love to hoot and hollar. So, as a result, my girls had a large variety of coverage ranging from one who wore her bikini over her bra and underwear (I tried to explain that this probably would bring on a greater reaction and stares, but she didn't buy it.) to others who wore jeans, t-shirts and yes, even shoes. I choose to wear a tankini top with workout shorts, which seemed silly to me since the differance in skin exposure is about 4 in, but when in Honduras do as the Hondurans!

When we arrived at the river there was a heard of cows drinking from and walking through the river. This didn't seem to bother anyone and the young ones ran straight for the water. The cows came and went throughout the day without any problems. We swam in the river, sunned on the rocks and ate a simple lunch. Unfortuantely, I had to leave after lunch to catch the bus back to the ranch so that I could get up early the next morning to head off to Nicaragua. I was surprised at what a great time I was having and very sad to leave. However, I think it was best that I left when it was still a blast and I wasn't feeling too dirty and tired.

Fuego!

The weather has finally broken and it is officially summer and HOT! Today is Friday and I got off work at 1. Usually, I do a little bit of paper work, clean my room and then go for a run, but today all I have been able to accomplish is eating lunch and laying in my hammock. With the heat has come spontaneous forest fires. The most recent was right outside our house and caused a little bit of a scare. The boys have been working hard for the last month on the “ronda”, which is a big ring of dirt around the ranch that is void of dry leaves or grass that could catch fire. This is supposed to stop any fire that starts outside the ranch. However, recently the fires have been started within the ranch, which makes the ronda pointless. Instead of going to school, the older boys have been spending the afternoons fighting fires.

Things are going really well with my hogar and I am really getting to know the girls and they are finally treating me like I belong. I still struggle with the language, but I understand about 75% of what they say now. It really depends on who is talking to me. Some of them speak much clearer and have decent grammar, but some of them speak very fast and cut off the end of all of their words. This makes understanding them almost impossible. There is one girl, Saravia, who speaks a little bit of English and really wants to learn more. We spend our evenings chatting in English and Spanish, helping each other. I am able to understand most of what she says because she pretty much knows the depth (or lack thereof) of my Spanish and can adjust her vocabulary to suit me. There is another girl, Jessica, who I am adopting as a special project. I spent one Saturday evening talking with her and she told me how much she hates the ranch and that she can’t wait to leave. Every night she sits by herself at dinner then afterwards leaves the hogar to spend time with her younger sisters. It is very sad and I am determined to develop a relationship with her. We are all going camping this weekend at the Rio Grande and I am excited to get to spend more time with all of them away from the ranch. Unfortunately, this is one of 2 weeks that I am able to take a long vacation during this year and I will have to leave the camping trip early to leave for Nicaragua to do some traveling. You can all look forward to my blog about that trip that is sure to come soon after I return. I am expecting some interesting travel stories because we (Emily and I) are traveling during Semana Santa, one of the most popular vacation weeks, without any hotel or bus reservations….Coming soon.

Ranch Fashion

Ranch fashion is an interesting concept and I am constantly surprised at the different types of clothing and accessories that I see wandering around the ranch. The children here are very isolated from the rest of the city and as a result really don’t know what the outside world is wearing. Also, they only have a limited amount of clothing to work with. However, they are very proud of what they have and have developed their very own fashion statements and strut around the ranch like they are the coolest thing around. Here are some of the more amusing trends:

1. The most prevalent and, in my opinion, the most odd trend is the wearing of one glove. Not a leather glove, but those cotton one size fits all gloves that we all wore in high school. Both girls and boys alike don the one glove for every special occasion. During the activity, the glove always travels because there are not enough to go around and sharing is common.
2. Another trend that has made its rounds throughout the world, but seems to be permanently stuck on the ranch is the popped shirt collar. Only the “coolest” boys can pull it off and pop it every chance they get.
3. Usually it is those boys that pop their collars that also have a mountain of hair gel to get that perfectly spiked hair. Sometimes, they even use baby oil because they haven’t been able to secure some real gel.
4. The next fashion is more common with the younger boys on the ranch. As in every country, these young boys follow everything the older boys do, and this fashion statement is based on that concept. The older boys, who have been able to go to the city with the little money they have, typically carry a central american style messenger bag. Because the younger boys don’t have the opportunity to go to the city to purchase these bags, they mimic the style the best they can with bags they find on the ranch. This usually involves a little girl’s purse. It is so amusing to see a 7 year old boy proudly sporting a little pink Barbie purse slung across his body.
5. As everyone knows, a style that has made a recent comeback in the US and Europe is the skinny jean. Many of the kids here have skinny jeans (probably originating from the first time they were popular) but they are not allowed to wear them to school because they have uniforms. In an attempt to make their uniform pants “skinny” the older kids tuck them into their white tube socks.
6. The next fashion isn’t something that the kids do intentionally, but by default because they don’t have many nice clothes. Clothing is a very important part of special occasions in Honduras and the ranch is no different. Whenever there is a celebration on the ranch the kids bring out their best clothing. So, they iron their best shirt, put on their nicest pants and shine their nicest shoes. The catch is that the “best” of everything doesn’t necessarily match, but that isn’t important.