Description of San José
I got a care package from Wizbif and Heathizzle the other day (um, amazing, thank you by the way!!) and had to pause at their description of where I live: in a rainforest in the searing heat. I guess I never explained what San José is really like. This I will try to do in the following entry. Picture this:
San José de Comayagua is small. There are about 1200 in the “urban” center. There are no restaurants, no supermarkets, almost no fruits or vegetables, and except for the occasional fiesta there is nothing to do after 5pm. Consequently I go to sleep at about 8:30 every night.
San José is set in the watershed of Lake Yojoa, the only lake in Honduras. Honduras is 80% mountainous so it’s no surprise that my town is in the mountains. You can tell whenever a rainstorm is on its way from how it rolls across the mountains and blankets the surrounding aldeas before reaching town; pretty cool. Climate varies a bit between wet and dry seasons, but on the whole the sun is incredibly strong and the temperature is nearly perfect every day. I have no thermometer but I’d estimate temps in the 80s during the day and 70s at night. Right now we’re in the rainiest month of the year, so the sun hasn’t come out in days. I haven’t washed clothes in a long time and a lot of my things are getting moldy because of the damp. I’d say it’s only in the low 60s (not bad AT all) but it feels much colder since there is no heat and the cold seeps through everything, everywhere.
The whole area used to be a coniferous forest, but most of San José is deforested and converted into farmland. A few of the aldeas still have quite a few pine trees, and it’s markedly cooler where the forest remains. I guess all of San José used to be like that. Way to go, deforestation.
To get into town you need to go through Taulabé, a bigger town, and continue for a long time on a dirt road, past rolling hills and a rickety bridge. The whole town is situated at an incline, and there’s really only one main road that snakes through, so the park doesn’t really bring everything together like in most towns. In fact, if you don’t look for it you’d drive right past it without realizing. As a result there doesn’t exist a true central neighborhood; everything is measured in up and down. The high school, soccer field and billiard hall are arriba (up), while the cantina, park, school, and health center are all abajo (down).
As I approach 6 months of being in site, I look back on my first day in San José: the drive from Taulabé that seemed to last forever; how terrified I was when we first crossed the rickety bridge; the secretary of the mayor’s office (the girl who picked me up) pointing out town landmarks as we blew past them; amazed at the small scale of everything, thinking to myself, “Am I really going to live here for two years?”
Now that I’ve been here a little while, I do miss the conveniences and comforts of a city: peanut butter, movie theaters, nightlife, market days on the weekends. But I think the charms of life in a small town surpass the inconveniences: everyone knowing my name (“Marina Unil” is beginning to stick!), people missing me when I leave, lunch or dinner with neighbors, waving to everyone along the main road, and a town with a genuine concern for my well-being. I could get used to this.
San José de Comayagua is small. There are about 1200 in the “urban” center. There are no restaurants, no supermarkets, almost no fruits or vegetables, and except for the occasional fiesta there is nothing to do after 5pm. Consequently I go to sleep at about 8:30 every night.
San José is set in the watershed of Lake Yojoa, the only lake in Honduras. Honduras is 80% mountainous so it’s no surprise that my town is in the mountains. You can tell whenever a rainstorm is on its way from how it rolls across the mountains and blankets the surrounding aldeas before reaching town; pretty cool. Climate varies a bit between wet and dry seasons, but on the whole the sun is incredibly strong and the temperature is nearly perfect every day. I have no thermometer but I’d estimate temps in the 80s during the day and 70s at night. Right now we’re in the rainiest month of the year, so the sun hasn’t come out in days. I haven’t washed clothes in a long time and a lot of my things are getting moldy because of the damp. I’d say it’s only in the low 60s (not bad AT all) but it feels much colder since there is no heat and the cold seeps through everything, everywhere.
The whole area used to be a coniferous forest, but most of San José is deforested and converted into farmland. A few of the aldeas still have quite a few pine trees, and it’s markedly cooler where the forest remains. I guess all of San José used to be like that. Way to go, deforestation.
To get into town you need to go through Taulabé, a bigger town, and continue for a long time on a dirt road, past rolling hills and a rickety bridge. The whole town is situated at an incline, and there’s really only one main road that snakes through, so the park doesn’t really bring everything together like in most towns. In fact, if you don’t look for it you’d drive right past it without realizing. As a result there doesn’t exist a true central neighborhood; everything is measured in up and down. The high school, soccer field and billiard hall are arriba (up), while the cantina, park, school, and health center are all abajo (down).
As I approach 6 months of being in site, I look back on my first day in San José: the drive from Taulabé that seemed to last forever; how terrified I was when we first crossed the rickety bridge; the secretary of the mayor’s office (the girl who picked me up) pointing out town landmarks as we blew past them; amazed at the small scale of everything, thinking to myself, “Am I really going to live here for two years?”
Now that I’ve been here a little while, I do miss the conveniences and comforts of a city: peanut butter, movie theaters, nightlife, market days on the weekends. But I think the charms of life in a small town surpass the inconveniences: everyone knowing my name (“Marina Unil” is beginning to stick!), people missing me when I leave, lunch or dinner with neighbors, waving to everyone along the main road, and a town with a genuine concern for my well-being. I could get used to this.
posted by Maureen at 1:20 PM
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