Ups and Downs

Life in Peace Corps is a series of emotional peaks and valleys. It’s giddiness, depression, anger, boredom and elation in a 15-minute sequence. I think this might be what manic depression would feel like… I guess it takes a 2-year commitment in a random Honduran town to do that to a person.

Since my 6 day stint in Tegus with a “viral infection” (i.e. the we-don’t-know-what-it-is-so-we’ll-call-it-a-viral-infection illness), I’ve been back in San Jose for about two weeks. Here are a few examples of the highs and lows:

HIGH: within an hour of arriving at the house I received 4 visitors AND my Ipod which my friend had fixed for me. Amazing!
LOW: the friend who fixed the Ipod didn’t even notice I’d been away for nearly a week
HIGH: next-door neighbor made me tea for my cough
LOW: a quick check of my kitchen showed that I was missing my sugar, bread, cooking oil and the Dove liquid soap my Aunt Denise sent me. I swear it was there when I left… where could they have gone? I loved that soap.
HIGH: a frantic check of my belongings showed that my bigger ticket items were still intact
LOW: a rainstorm came through and sent brown water surging through my house, yet again
HIGH: my old host sister came to help me clean up… and this girl can CLEAN
LOW: while cleaning I noticed a figure watching us from the bushes. I immediately felt gross thinking it was my creepy bolo neighbor
HIGH: it was actually the bolo neighbor’s nephew, the totally harmless high school kid who wanted to say hi
LOW: my group of high school girls didn’t practice their flag routine while I was away and the flag squad was forced to disband; I also cancelled teaching my business simulation at the high school due to exams and a million events and holidays that would disrupt class
HIGH: no hard feelings!
LOW: I woke up this morning to the sound of bottle rockets going off right outside my front porch. Nice.
HIGH: I woke up at 8am to get to work at 8:15. Very nice.

Laying low in Tegus

I've been in the capital city since Thursday with an unknown viral infection... i.e. feeling like death warmed over for the past week, which has been deemed a really bad cold. So I feel like a big baby but at least I get to chill in the glitzy glamorous capital of Honduras for a few days. And by glamorous I mean the Courtney Love kind of glamorous: loud, unpredictable, kind of fun to go out with for maybe an evening and then never again.

I've told a Honduran that Tegucigalpa (Tegus for short) is an example of poor urban planning, to which he replied, "it's not bad planning, it's just bad organization," which I would argue is a result of POOR PLANNING. What began as the two municipalities of Tegus and Comayaguela later turned into one merged city as two big areas smushed together. Urban sprawl in the 70s and 80s later contributed to more slums and barrios riding high up along the mountainside, which are periodically washed away by hurricanes. Riding in a taxi around town, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to anything. Streets are never marked. Dead ends and random backalleys are all over. Plus, until one stays here for quite a while, one never really knows where the "bad" neighborhoods end and the "good" ones begin. As a result, I've limited my wanderings to the hotel, the PC office, the mall and the fast food joints (arguably one of the epitomes in fine dining in Honduras, people dress up for Burger King). Maybe two years down the road I'll look back at these days when I was wary of Tegus and laugh. But for today I'm just ready to go back to teeny tiny San Jose, where urban planning consists of one main road and traffic is made up of cattle herds. I should be back tomorrow.