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.