Reconnect and more

Last week I met up with the Business Project in a semiannual event called Reconnect. It was a chance to catch up with Volunteers from my group and meet those from the group before us, while also sharing experiences and ideas on business projects. It was really nice to see everyone from my group, all 15 of us (nobody’s left yet, amazing!), and to enjoy a few days in a national park near the lake. After Reconnect I went with a few other volunteers to my friend Katie’s site in Las Vegas. Yes there is a Honduran Las Vegas, with much fewer casinos (i.e. no casinos) and more mountains. Katie took us around town and we marveled at the amazing park, the bank, the paved streets, the availability of fruits and vegetables and the storefronts with glass windows and MANNEQUINS! Friend Molly, whose site is just as small as mine, actually commented that it reminded her of a European town. This confirmed that we’d been in our sites too long. But it was really nice to buy food, to watch DVDs and have reliable electricity despite a huge rainstorm. I never thought I’d measure quality of life in the form of Sex and the City DVDs.
The last day in Las Vegas we went on a hike to the water source, which ended being a short but incredibly nerve-wracking trip. The trail led us through a maze of streams, slippery leaves, slippery mud and slippery rocks, and at one point my foot went through a dead tree branch and into a huge muddy pit. But I’m not complaining; this hike was nothing compared to the following day back in San José, when a coworker from the mayor’s office took me on a six-hour hike to the highest point in the municipality. We STARTED with a walk barefoot through a river, then an hour walk to the aldea closest to the mountain, then two hours more up what seemed like a vertical mile. Also the trail was totally feo since the hurricane that passed through last week had knocked down a bunch of trees, so we were forced to climb trees and dodge branches and prickly plants for the majority of the hike. It was neat to see the whole municipality and the mountains that stretched as far as El Salvador. It was really cool to see all of Las Delicias, an aldea of San José that’s bigger than the urban center of San José itself. We got to eat guama and guayaba fruits straight from the vine. However after that I didn’t feel like walking anywhere ever again. I guess I’m not the outdoorsy type.

About Piropos

A piropo is a catcall. Back home it is the cry of the construction worker and greasy latino men. In Honduras and all Latin America, the piropo is everywhere. Those of all ages, backgrounds and marital statuses are subject to them, either giving or receiving them. Second graders do it. Old men in cowboy hats do it, Even women sometimes do it. Those on the receiving end may be 10 years old, or elderly, or pregnant, or ugly as hell. Nobody is safe from the piropos.

This is much more common in big cities where the piropo-givers can hide in the cloak of anonymity; this was the case during my year in San José, Costa Rica. But even in THIS San José, where everyone knows everyone, piropos are ubiquitous. And being the token gringa I am never far from a piropo or two wherever I go. They come in the following forms:
-the subtle high-pitched dog whistle
-the less subtle “tss-tss” sound
-the very obvious kissy noise
-the attempts at speaking English: “goosbye my lub,” “i lub yoo” “wer jew from”
-the elongated, sleazy-sounding “adiossssssssssss”
-the pet name (the mayor’s 12-year-old son prefers calling me “mi corazoncito,” my little heart, which I think is the nicest of them all)
-the occasional yucky comment—the other day I heard “Todo es mío” (That’s all mine), but luckily it was meant for my 14-year-old friend and not for me

Supposedly there’s a history behind the piropo. I heard once that it dates back to colonial times when the only public space was the plaza, and for fun the women walked in one circle around the plaza and the men walked in another circle in the other direction, giving the men one turn around the circle to think of something really good to say to get a lady’s attention. Regardless of the history behind it, many women are not bothered by them, but rather consider them compliments. People are baffled as to why I get upset over the piropos. If there´s one thing I appreciate more about my life in the States, it´s anonymity. I´m nothing special, I don´t cause any attention, and that´s just how I like it. This piropo business will be a continuing issue, I´m thinking…. Stay tuned…

Books Read so Far

All of which I would recommend to ANYONE, except maybe the book in Spanish which would appeal more to those who can read in the Spanish language:

Like Water for Chocolate
Into Thin Air
The Alchemist´s Daughter
A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Evening
Sex Lives of Cannibals (written by an MSFS grad)
El Regreso de una Wetback (written by a Honduran and set in Honduras AND, interestingly enough, in Northern Virginia)
Everyone Worth Knowing
The Memory Keeper´s Daughter
Enemy Women (definitely for those interested in historical fiction from the Civil War era)
The Namesake (Jhumpa Lahiri, such a great writer)
Middlesex (Pulitzer Prize winner, amazing novel about a hermaphrodite... and so much more!)

Projects and Activities

What is it exactly that you´re doing? I´m asked this a lot, and it is still a puzzling question to answer. In short, there are days where I run from one meeting to another, and other days where I do nothing. Here are a few activities I´ve got going on so far, after three months in site:

Knucklehead youth tourist group: There are two separate youth groups currently involved in bringing tourism to San José, both of which are very wishy-washy and difficult to organize. We´re hoping to give talks on tourism in the next few months, as well as host a few groups of tourists who will be visiting the caves.

Municipality: The mayor being my primary counterpart, most of my days in the office are spent working on lesson plans and hanging out with the staff. However, I hope to work with a few projects funded by the Strategy to Reduce Poverty (Strategy for Poverty Reduction? It´s more well-known by its Spanish acronym ERP), including an agricultural cooperative. There is also a waste management cooperative that I´m hoping to work with, funded by a local NGO.

Free English classes for everyone: I give conversation classes once a week to the English teacher at the high school, twice a week to the English teacher at the elementary school, and basic English once a week in a school in an aldea. I´m also the go-to person for all English homework assignments.

Millions of charlas: Literally “chats,” charlas are short one-hour or two-hour talks on a given topic. This month alone I´ll be giving ten: seven charlas on the environment to all classes in the elementary school, the charla with the tourist group on agrotourism, one charla on HIV/AIDS and one three-hour workshop in the municipality on human relations.

…and more! I´m working with a committee on bringing a municipal library to San José; I´ll be teaching a class once a week in the sixth grade on the benefits of staying in school; I´ll be teaching business concepts once a week in the high school and helping out with their nascent computer program.

Together with these activities, I also do a lot of reading, learning to cook, or alternatively, eating at neighbors´ houses, taking periodic trips to civilization to buy fruit and peanut butter, taking strolls around town, playing with kids and general hanging out in site. It´s a low-key, in-bed-at-nine kind of town, but luckily there is always a project or a charla to work on, a neighbor to visit, coffee to drink and a novela to watch.

Gastronomic Delights of Honduras

Honduras is not known for its cuisine. On the whole, the food is caloric and filling. If you like beans and corn tortillas this is the place to be. That said there are some delicious diamonds in the rough of Honduran food:

Pupusas: these are actually Salvadoran but the influence of the neighboring country had its effect on the Honduran palate. Take corn “masa,” stick some white cheese and/or meat inside and fry fry fry. As DCites well know, you can also find these anywhere in Adams Morgan.

Baleadas: refried beans on a flour tortilla, with optional cheese, meat, veggie mix called “chismol,” avocado or mayonnaise. The tortilla makes or breaks the baleada. When making beans remember to add at least half a pound of lard. Mmmm lard.

Campesino spaghetti: essentially spaghetti with a lot of fat thrown in, from butter to mayonnaise (or its creamier cousin mantequilla) to ketchup to oil to hot dogs and more butter. God forbid you throw in extra vegetables; I tried this when cooking with the neighbors and they nearly had a heart attack.

Chicken with rice: I remember this dish from Costa Rica and I am thrilled that it is here in Honduras. Essentially pulled chicken is mixed with rice, various spices, corn, green peppers, carrots and onions. I made this last night with my next-door neighbor. Delicioso.

Tajadas: Cut and fried plantains. Some street vendors mix them with cabbage and ketchup, stick them in a tiny chip bag and sell them for about a quarter each.

Tacos: not your typical corn U-shaped tacos, these are smaller tortillas wrapped all the way around the meat inside and fried until crispy and oozing with grease.

There are also a number of recipes for corn on the cob, as well as coconut, which are all very delicious. And mostly fat-filled. Detect a theme? With my stomach parasite cleared out of my system, the food is finally catching up to me, and I feel like a walrus after every meal.

It’s nice to have my own kitchen and make steamed broccoli and apple slices to compensate for my not having eaten fruits or vegetables for the first 5 months in Honduras; however, as most folks in San José tend to express hospitality in the form of food and Fanta soda, I’m still consuming gallons of grease and sugar every day. Also, I can never say no to food. It is customary, from what I’ve been told, to always say yes to food. It may come from the uncertainty of where the next meal will come from, or maybe it’s just a mysterious cultural norm, but one must always say yes to food or it´s an insult, and the person will never offer anything to you again.

So when I come home this Christmas, expect a rounder and tubbier Maureen.

Me gusta moverlo, moverlo

Saturday night I went to my first dance in San José, held by the high school to raise money for their computer lab. Now I am one of those people that love to dance, and not in a sensual vixen kind of way, but rather a dance-until-soaked-in-sweat kind of way. So there was no way I was missing this dance, the only thing San José had going on after 8pm in MONTHS. The religious women in town told me dancing was a sin, dances were horrible raucous affairs, that men would grab me and people would be drunk and engaging in sexual acts on the dance floor. I paid them no mind… I was going to this dance.

The bad thing about the dance was the incredible glut of hombres—there were almost no women there, which made me quite the target for sloppy drunks asking me to dance with them in a sloppy fashion. The good thing was the presence of the high school kids, who helped shield me from the crazies… the girls hid me in the kitchen, the boys pulled me onto the dance floor before anyone else could. It was awesome. In the end it was a very fun night, the high school raised a bunch of money and I got to dance all night with high school kids about half my size. Again, awesome—or as they’d say here, Qué macisa!!!