Ah, I remember being a kid in elementary school, preparing for the spelling bee. I was a great speller - my classmates always thought I'd be in the spelling bee. We'd have a few rounds in the classroom, then start eliminating for who would go to the school wide contest. I was a shoe-in, they all thought. Except, every time, I'd rush through a word and do something stupid. Who knew "government" had an "n" in it? (And yes, my teacher more clearly pronounced the "n" for the student after me after I got it wrong.)
As a math teacher, I don't have any classroom responsibilities regarding the spelling bee. I don't have to come up with vocabulary lists or hold any contests (although I have started holding my own version of the Granite State Challenge for math review whenever something goes awry with my schedule, such as only having 10th grade and one of the 7th grade classes on Spelling Bee Monday). I don't even get asked to be a judge. But, I do get to watch...and monitor the hallways for when the 7th graders get bored and think a trip to the "bathroom" can last forever as they hang out by their lockers instead of coming back.
It was fun watching the kids with their chance to perform. The 1st graders were very thoughtful with words like run, ran and rat. They would often take long pauses, the length causing the teachers to wonder if they were going to speak again, to think about the word they just heard and place it in their brain on their English vocabulary list. Remember, not only are they new spellers, but they are new English speakers as well! The older kids in secondary school were not as brash as they usually are when they're strutting around school. They, too, would pause to consider their word, carefully spelling it out things like extraordinary. The shoe-in winner, much to the consternation of some Honduran parents who called the school to ask him to step down, was the red-haired gringo from Alaska, here with his parents who are teaching computers and 6th grade. He had studied and competed fairly in his classroom and gotten all excited about being in the competition, so no! he didn't step down. And, like me so long ago, he stumbled, missing one of the w's in awkward. The winner of the competition was a second grader, who clearly had studied. And while she missed "strength", a fourth grade word, in the final competition against a fourth grader, it was clear she knew all of her second grade words.
In true Honduran fashion, we found out that there were activities for the kids after the spelling bee. At first, secondary school was not going to be allowed. Then, Sunday night, we found out the secondary students were going to stay until 10 a.m. if they were on their best behavior during the spelling bee. Finally, while milling around with the other secondary teachers trying to figure out of we should head to our classes or not, we discovered that there were no classes until after lunch. And that's how I ended up teaching only 10th and one class of 7th grade on Monday. Go Granite State Challenge!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Omoa, Honduras by Amy
On our first four-day weekend in the school year, we decided to go to the beach! The Caribbean sounded appealing, so a group of 16 of us headed for the Atlantic coast. White beaches, hot sun, ice cream, perhaps a hammock over the water. Maybe even some snorkeling or scuba diving. It all seemed so dreamy.
We headed out on Thursday after the Independence Day parade. After a 5 hour chartered bus ride (thanks David!), we arrived in Omoa after dark, got our hostel beds, and headed for dinner. Dinner service, as to be expected in Honduras, was slow, so small groups took breaks from being serenaded with US country music at the dinner table and walked out the pier across the street. We waited until after dinner to take our trip up the planks. The water was lapping on the shore, fishermen could be seen catching fish off the end of the pier, and mounds of trash were piled up against the beach and around the pier pilings all the way out to the end of the pier. "I can't swim in that," was my first thought. Oh, we should have known. Lovely Honduras, you are so beautiful, but you do have a trash problem.
Apparently, Omoa has had a few things happen in recent years that is contributing to its trash problem. First, Honduras appears to be in a transition from disposable packaging, such as banana leaves, to all the same types of plastic trash we find in the US. Remember the commercials from the '70s with the (Italian) Indian crying over the trash and the big campaign to clean up the USA? That hasn't happened here, so lots of the wrappers, chip bags, and pop bottles just end up on the ground. We're in the midst of the rainy season, so this trash gets washed into the rivers, which eventually carry it to the coast. Omoa, being close to the border, also is the beneficiary of trash carried by the rivers of Guatemala and Belize. Omoa also suffered under Hurricane Mitch in 1998, diminishing the coastline and changing the sea currents to bring more trash inland. Finally, Omoa has suffered at the hands of the gas company. Storage tanks were installed on Omoa's beach for importing liquified petroleum gas. Along with the tanks came sea walls that disturbed the natural currents and destroyed the beach. Perhaps the locals welcome the continual line of gas trucks driving the length of Omoa all day Sunday? Ah, progress (corruption, greed?).
Fortunately, the next day, we were able to find a small beach with less trash and got to go swimming. On Sunday, we took a bus to an even nicer beach with even less trash. We also hiked to a waterfall, saw the old Spanish fort, ate fish, and enjoyed our time at Roli's Place!
We headed out on Thursday after the Independence Day parade. After a 5 hour chartered bus ride (thanks David!), we arrived in Omoa after dark, got our hostel beds, and headed for dinner. Dinner service, as to be expected in Honduras, was slow, so small groups took breaks from being serenaded with US country music at the dinner table and walked out the pier across the street. We waited until after dinner to take our trip up the planks. The water was lapping on the shore, fishermen could be seen catching fish off the end of the pier, and mounds of trash were piled up against the beach and around the pier pilings all the way out to the end of the pier. "I can't swim in that," was my first thought. Oh, we should have known. Lovely Honduras, you are so beautiful, but you do have a trash problem.
Apparently, Omoa has had a few things happen in recent years that is contributing to its trash problem. First, Honduras appears to be in a transition from disposable packaging, such as banana leaves, to all the same types of plastic trash we find in the US. Remember the commercials from the '70s with the (Italian) Indian crying over the trash and the big campaign to clean up the USA? That hasn't happened here, so lots of the wrappers, chip bags, and pop bottles just end up on the ground. We're in the midst of the rainy season, so this trash gets washed into the rivers, which eventually carry it to the coast. Omoa, being close to the border, also is the beneficiary of trash carried by the rivers of Guatemala and Belize. Omoa also suffered under Hurricane Mitch in 1998, diminishing the coastline and changing the sea currents to bring more trash inland. Finally, Omoa has suffered at the hands of the gas company. Storage tanks were installed on Omoa's beach for importing liquified petroleum gas. Along with the tanks came sea walls that disturbed the natural currents and destroyed the beach. Perhaps the locals welcome the continual line of gas trucks driving the length of Omoa all day Sunday? Ah, progress (corruption, greed?).
Fortunately, the next day, we were able to find a small beach with less trash and got to go swimming. On Sunday, we took a bus to an even nicer beach with even less trash. We also hiked to a waterfall, saw the old Spanish fort, ate fish, and enjoyed our time at Roli's Place!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
It's a small world, isn't it? -- by Amy and Alex
So, we walked into a bar, two Fridays ago, to be precise. Barcito (I guess that would mean we walked into a "little bar") is a popular tourist hang out, and also popular with the younger U.S. Mayatan teachers. (Us older folks prefer the much more laid back scene at the local German bar over the intense are you gonna date a Honduran? scene at the town's two tourist bars.) Anyway, we walked up the flight of stairs leading into Barcito. At the top of the stairs, I glanced to my left and noticed this tall dark-haired man staring at me. You may think I'm being vain thinking some man was staring at me, but, being the blond giantess that I am, it truly happens quite frequently. So frequently, in fact, that I am in the habit of ignoring it, especially if Alex is not standing immediately beside me. So I turned my full attention to Sarah, who was asking me something, and the very large-screen video of the rock group Queen directly in front of me, thinking meanwhile that the man staring at me looked familiar. "There is no way you would ever see someone you know in Honduras," my brain told me, "He is just some tall Honduran guy." I definitely was going to ignore some tall Honduran guy staring at me. After answering Sarah's question, I peeked back over to see if that guy had stopped staring, only to see Alex over there talking with him. "Oh my gosh!" I suddenly realized. My brain switched gears, finally informing me, "If Alex is talking with him, it must be someone we know.
OK this is Alex writing now: When I topped the stairs I looked to my left and saw the same tall dark haired guy looking at me also. My first thought was not, Oh there is a tall dark haired guy staring at me again.:) Rather, my first thought was, I know this guy, but how? Even though I couldn't place him and my mind was reeling from confusion and feeling a lot like I was in the twilight zone, I waved at him and he waved back. His waving back confused me even more and now I was going to have to approach him and ask, "Hi, how do I know you?" which was pretty much the way it went. I walked up to him, he was standing by now, and I shook his hand and asked, "Tillamook?", my mind still dazed. He replied, "Yes", thinking I had asked something else (it was very loud there) but I was still confused so I tried again with a play it safe kinda question, "How do I know you?", to which he replied, "Yellowstone". Ah, the lights came on. Glenn!
We worked at Yellowstone with Glenn last summer! What a trip! No, I'm not on acid. All this way and who would have thunk it. Amy finally came over and greetings were exchanged as we sat down and got caught up on how we all happened in Honduras. He said he knew that we were in Honduras from another friend we all had worked with in YS, but didn't know where. He had been on vacation in the Honduran islands on the Caribbean side and had met some ladies who were working here in Copan. So, he decided to visit Copan Ruinas. We introduced him to our fellow teachers and the next day he joined us on a guided trip to a waterfall outside the town of Santa Rita. We swam in the refreshing pool below the falls for a couple of hours before we made our journey back to Copan Ruinas. Later that evening he joined our potluck party. He fit right in, even staying long after Amy and I went home. The following morning Glenn was off on an early bus to San Pedro Sula to catch a plane home to the States. It can be a small world, can't it!
OK this is Alex writing now: When I topped the stairs I looked to my left and saw the same tall dark haired guy looking at me also. My first thought was not, Oh there is a tall dark haired guy staring at me again.:) Rather, my first thought was, I know this guy, but how? Even though I couldn't place him and my mind was reeling from confusion and feeling a lot like I was in the twilight zone, I waved at him and he waved back. His waving back confused me even more and now I was going to have to approach him and ask, "Hi, how do I know you?" which was pretty much the way it went. I walked up to him, he was standing by now, and I shook his hand and asked, "Tillamook?", my mind still dazed. He replied, "Yes", thinking I had asked something else (it was very loud there) but I was still confused so I tried again with a play it safe kinda question, "How do I know you?", to which he replied, "Yellowstone". Ah, the lights came on. Glenn!
We worked at Yellowstone with Glenn last summer! What a trip! No, I'm not on acid. All this way and who would have thunk it. Amy finally came over and greetings were exchanged as we sat down and got caught up on how we all happened in Honduras. He said he knew that we were in Honduras from another friend we all had worked with in YS, but didn't know where. He had been on vacation in the Honduran islands on the Caribbean side and had met some ladies who were working here in Copan. So, he decided to visit Copan Ruinas. We introduced him to our fellow teachers and the next day he joined us on a guided trip to a waterfall outside the town of Santa Rita. We swam in the refreshing pool below the falls for a couple of hours before we made our journey back to Copan Ruinas. Later that evening he joined our potluck party. He fit right in, even staying long after Amy and I went home. The following morning Glenn was off on an early bus to San Pedro Sula to catch a plane home to the States. It can be a small world, can't it!
"Road Crew" By Alex
Today I was wondering what I would be doing at school, and I am always amazed at what comes up and how busy I can be. Antonio, one of the vigilantes (guards) came up to me and said, "Let's go help over there," in Spanish, of course. He and Chepe, the other vigilante, carrying shovels and pushing a wheel barrel, handed me a length of eight inch PVC pipe and off we went strolling down the dirt road along side of the school. We walked about a quarter mile to a place in the road where I realized that I was going to be working on a road crew put together at the last minute by the office staff at school. Before I proceed I will give a bit of history. The majority of the road to school is dirt and very dusty and the last bit before you get to the school is up a pretty steep hill. Every year it gets very rutty during the rainy season and now it is going to be paved with cobblestone or interlocking pavers. When we arrived in August, the road crews had started the grading process and sections of the road had been blocked off. As a result, a new temporary road was cut along the outer edge of the town to accommodate traffic to the school and beyond.
This new road is all freshly cut dirt along the hillsides with not a lot of forethought going into it. Winding, descending and rising along the way it can get very muddy and slippery after a good rain with the buses and other traffic having a slippery time ascending the hills and crossing the swales. A few times buses have become stuck in the mud, and as a result, students have been late for school. There has been an attempt at alleviating the problem by the "strategic" placement of crushed rock in specific areas which usually falls short of what is really necessary.
Place in point. As we arrived at the work spot, we followed the road downhill where, at the bottom, is a creek flowing across the road while the ascending road on the other side of the creek is much steeper with an added curve to the right. Our motley crew made up of bus drivers, school guards and four young Honduran recruits began picking and shoveling a trench across the road in the middle of the creek. This was no easy chore with the ground being made up of every size of rock you can imagine. My first thought was are we really going to use an eight inch pipe? One of the bus drivers took the roll of hefe (boss) and then another bus driver came and joined him in the roll. They worked as well so that was a plus. Then another guy showed up and started waving his arms and from what I gathered he was saying, "We need a bigger pipe! That pipe is too small! I will make a phone call!"
We resumed our laboring when a bit later another guy, the gringo who owns the bird park here, showed up and talked to the guy making the phone call. Finally, the gringo said, "We need a bigger pipe. This will be disastrous with a big rain. I will go get the pipe." We had to stop digging the trench so traffic had a place to cross so we began shoveling crushed rock into wheel barrels from along the edge of the roadway and wheeling the rock down to beside the trench, dumping it into piles so we could shovel it into place later. Why shovel rock once when you can shovel it twice? A little while later, the guy from the school who sent us there to start the project showed up and put his two cents in about the pipe and sped off - another jefe!
Finally the pipe arrived, a nice eighteen inch diameter corrugated culvert pipe. It was a good thing those guys showed up and demanded a better pipe. We finished digging the trench and placed the pipe. I assumed we were going to backfill around the pipe with the crushed rock we hauled over as this is the correct way by our standards in the US, but to my surprise the others started digging the dirt-clay away from the side of the hill and began dumping it around and on top of the culvert pipe. I wanted to say something, but decided it was not my place or country nor did they need one more jefe. Instead, I willingly helped spreading the dirt around around the culvert. After it was decided that we had an adequate amount of dirt, we commenced spreading the crushed gravel on top of the dirt which was a pain in the ass as it was in piles that we could hardly dig the shovel into. I was thinking about how it would have been much easier to haul it over and dump it on top of the culvert instead of putting it in piles which we would have to move again.
As we finished spreading the material, traffic would drive over it to test it out, but each time a vehicle drove over, the section of road would flex like a sponge from all the dirt below the crushed rock. We will see how it holds up with the next big rain. Even though it was not the most efficient job in some ways, it was a good effort and a new experience of how things get done in Honduras. To top it off I got to work on a Honduran road crew, if that is what you could call us.
Two days later: We had a big rain last night and I was wondering how the culvert was holding up, so the next day I walked over to inspect the culvert. When I arrived, the culvert was intact but, where was all the gravel we spread over the top, not to mention the dump truck load that was brought later that day? Ahh, it all had sunk into the dirt when it turned to mud. Well all in all for now it is okay. We will see how long it will last. Hopefully a long, long time.
This new road is all freshly cut dirt along the hillsides with not a lot of forethought going into it. Winding, descending and rising along the way it can get very muddy and slippery after a good rain with the buses and other traffic having a slippery time ascending the hills and crossing the swales. A few times buses have become stuck in the mud, and as a result, students have been late for school. There has been an attempt at alleviating the problem by the "strategic" placement of crushed rock in specific areas which usually falls short of what is really necessary.
Place in point. As we arrived at the work spot, we followed the road downhill where, at the bottom, is a creek flowing across the road while the ascending road on the other side of the creek is much steeper with an added curve to the right. Our motley crew made up of bus drivers, school guards and four young Honduran recruits began picking and shoveling a trench across the road in the middle of the creek. This was no easy chore with the ground being made up of every size of rock you can imagine. My first thought was are we really going to use an eight inch pipe? One of the bus drivers took the roll of hefe (boss) and then another bus driver came and joined him in the roll. They worked as well so that was a plus. Then another guy showed up and started waving his arms and from what I gathered he was saying, "We need a bigger pipe! That pipe is too small! I will make a phone call!"
We resumed our laboring when a bit later another guy, the gringo who owns the bird park here, showed up and talked to the guy making the phone call. Finally, the gringo said, "We need a bigger pipe. This will be disastrous with a big rain. I will go get the pipe." We had to stop digging the trench so traffic had a place to cross so we began shoveling crushed rock into wheel barrels from along the edge of the roadway and wheeling the rock down to beside the trench, dumping it into piles so we could shovel it into place later. Why shovel rock once when you can shovel it twice? A little while later, the guy from the school who sent us there to start the project showed up and put his two cents in about the pipe and sped off - another jefe!
Finally the pipe arrived, a nice eighteen inch diameter corrugated culvert pipe. It was a good thing those guys showed up and demanded a better pipe. We finished digging the trench and placed the pipe. I assumed we were going to backfill around the pipe with the crushed rock we hauled over as this is the correct way by our standards in the US, but to my surprise the others started digging the dirt-clay away from the side of the hill and began dumping it around and on top of the culvert pipe. I wanted to say something, but decided it was not my place or country nor did they need one more jefe. Instead, I willingly helped spreading the dirt around around the culvert. After it was decided that we had an adequate amount of dirt, we commenced spreading the crushed gravel on top of the dirt which was a pain in the ass as it was in piles that we could hardly dig the shovel into. I was thinking about how it would have been much easier to haul it over and dump it on top of the culvert instead of putting it in piles which we would have to move again.
As we finished spreading the material, traffic would drive over it to test it out, but each time a vehicle drove over, the section of road would flex like a sponge from all the dirt below the crushed rock. We will see how it holds up with the next big rain. Even though it was not the most efficient job in some ways, it was a good effort and a new experience of how things get done in Honduras. To top it off I got to work on a Honduran road crew, if that is what you could call us.
Two days later: We had a big rain last night and I was wondering how the culvert was holding up, so the next day I walked over to inspect the culvert. When I arrived, the culvert was intact but, where was all the gravel we spread over the top, not to mention the dump truck load that was brought later that day? Ahh, it all had sunk into the dirt when it turned to mud. Well all in all for now it is okay. We will see how long it will last. Hopefully a long, long time.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Obsessing about Water - by Amy
You may wonder why water is so important to me, having read the blog about finessing the shower to get hot water. Upon our return, during the rainy season and the dog days of summer, I find myself downing 2 Nalgene bottles of water a day. So, yes, I guess I obsess about water. Do we have enough potable water at home, that we purchase in large water cooler bottles for $1? Do we need to fill up all of our pitchers and Nalgenes so we can go get some more as potable water from the tap is a miracle that only occurs in 1st world countries? Is my water bottle continually full at school? The kids have already been admonished by me that they can't laugh when my voice cracks - why is that so funny when they know that not only are the teachers talking 5 hours a day, but we have to teach above the din of the playground, other classrooms (in my case, the computer lab, which has classes coming in and out all day), and the construction noises thoughtfully added to the mix by Alex? We were forewarned by the teachers who were here during the rainy season last year that this is also the time of more frequent power outages, sometimes lasting for a few days. At our household, power outages are accompanied by water outages. You don't want to be around Alex when he misses his shower - not only does he get stinky, but he gets cranky, too!
Having read "Amy's top 10 ways to take a hot shower" way back in January, you may have wondered, as we did, if there would ever be a time when we needed a list titled "Amy's top 10 ways to take a cold shower." Si, claro - of course there is! As the weather heats up, so does the water that comes into our house and the difficulty to get enough cool water to take a refreshing shower. Here's the list:
Having read "Amy's top 10 ways to take a hot shower" way back in January, you may have wondered, as we did, if there would ever be a time when we needed a list titled "Amy's top 10 ways to take a cold shower." Si, claro - of course there is! As the weather heats up, so does the water that comes into our house and the difficulty to get enough cool water to take a refreshing shower. Here's the list:
1. Become a master of adjusting the water faucet one micrometer at a time to get the right temperature.
2. Take a shower in the late afternoon, before the power goes out, eventually taking the water supply with it.
3. DO NOT run any water anywhere else in the entire building (which includes the 2 families downstairs and the teacher next door) while someone is in the shower. It reduces the water pressure, thus increasing the temperature in the bizarre water heater contraption that also serves as a shower head that depends upon a very precise water pressure. (Try to forget that the electric water heater right above your head is connected to the electric source with some very shaky looking wiring and has been known to give innocent bathers a little shock. Case in point - Alex took took a shower yesterday right after our water supply came back. Flowing water was followed by an air pocket. The blast of water that followed the air, caused a large spark inside the water heater. Luckily, Alex was standing outside the shower and not under the shower head at that point.)
4. Wait for the constantly fluctuating water pressure to peak. If the water pressure is too low, there will be enough cold water to turn the water heater on, but not enough to counter balance the hot water to obtain a luke-warm shower.
5. Take a shower right after a power outage has started as the water pressure will still be somewhat strong but there won't be power to turn on the water heater. This will result in a cold shower, but when it's this hot, who cares!
6. Don’t take a shower when the lights are dim. The power, like the water pressure, constantly fluctuates, so you may suddenly find yourself in a very hot shower.
7. Wait for cooler weather as a warm day heats the water in the river and in the black plastic water storage tank. Warm water gets even warmer when it runs through the water heater.
8. Learn to accept that the Honduran weather is a lot hotter than where we're from in the US and that everyone sweats, whether you've had a cool shower or not.
9. Appreciate every day that there is water coming to the shower, no matter what the temperature is.
10. Take hot showers and sweat it off once you get out.
Alfombras
Thursday evening at five PM, sixty to seventy people gathered at one of the streets alongside the central park to begin the creation of the Semana Santa alfombras (carpets). The first procedure was to take all of the bags of uncolored sawdust that were distributed along the block and empty them on top of the cobblestone.
After we emptyed the bags, people took rakes and brooms to the sawdust to spred it out. Next, we took long boards to use as screeds (similar to spreading out concrete) to level out the sawdust, making several passes, pulling the boards over the sawdust to get out any humps and swales. After the sawdust was fairly level, we placed cardboard on the sawdust and "danced" on it to tamp the sawdust down. Each person used two pieces of cardboard, placing one in front of the other to travel the full length of the street, pressing the sawdust down. After this was done, string lines were placed to ensure the proper spacing of the alfombras, then out came the sawdust that I helped color last week. We found out when it was time to place the image on the flattened sawdus that us teachers from Escuela Mayatan had our own alfombra.
Each alfombra had a square center with a border. One color was used for the center and another for the border. Each alfombra had its own image, and ours was Jesus portrayed as a shepard, with his sheep of course. We had different colors to choose from for Jesus' ropa (clothes). We were all barefoot as we had to be careful on the sawdust. As a result, we all went home with colored feet and hands. Designs were created by us for decorating the border. Many onlookers were lining the street all through the night along with the occasional stray dog prancing unaware across the length of the alfombras. The damage was very minimal until someone would shew the dog and it would take off only to do more damage. Toward the end we let some "stray" kids help and they were very excited. Our alfombra was finally finished it only took seven hours. Amy was tired and went home to bed while I stayed to guard and helped finish with the final touches.
This posting was still in our drafts box from last Easter. I guess we fell behind a little on our postings. We now have internet at home, so we should be better, barring power outages and acts of God that seem to strike Honduras more than Oregon.
After we emptyed the bags, people took rakes and brooms to the sawdust to spred it out. Next, we took long boards to use as screeds (similar to spreading out concrete) to level out the sawdust, making several passes, pulling the boards over the sawdust to get out any humps and swales. After the sawdust was fairly level, we placed cardboard on the sawdust and "danced" on it to tamp the sawdust down. Each person used two pieces of cardboard, placing one in front of the other to travel the full length of the street, pressing the sawdust down. After this was done, string lines were placed to ensure the proper spacing of the alfombras, then out came the sawdust that I helped color last week. We found out when it was time to place the image on the flattened sawdus that us teachers from Escuela Mayatan had our own alfombra.
Each alfombra had a square center with a border. One color was used for the center and another for the border. Each alfombra had its own image, and ours was Jesus portrayed as a shepard, with his sheep of course. We had different colors to choose from for Jesus' ropa (clothes). We were all barefoot as we had to be careful on the sawdust. As a result, we all went home with colored feet and hands. Designs were created by us for decorating the border. Many onlookers were lining the street all through the night along with the occasional stray dog prancing unaware across the length of the alfombras. The damage was very minimal until someone would shew the dog and it would take off only to do more damage. Toward the end we let some "stray" kids help and they were very excited. Our alfombra was finally finished it only took seven hours. Amy was tired and went home to bed while I stayed to guard and helped finish with the final touches.
This posting was still in our drafts box from last Easter. I guess we fell behind a little on our postings. We now have internet at home, so we should be better, barring power outages and acts of God that seem to strike Honduras more than Oregon.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
cotinuation- playa el tunco
Starting on Thursday March 17th, we had a four day weekend. Ten of us decided to go on a little excursion to Playa El Tunco, El Salvador. Tunco, in the indigionous language means, pig. Thus, The Pig Beach. We packed our bathing suits and boarded our chartered van, and set out at 2pm on March 16th for our five hour journey. The van rental was $200 dollars round trip total. Leaving Copan, we traveled 15 min. to the Guatemalan border.
After passport check we loaded up and made the 2.5 hour trip through mountainous rural Guatemala to another Guatemalan border, bordering El Salvador. After stopping to have the Guatemalan immigration officer stamp our passports, we loaded up again to drive two blocks to the El Salvadorian immigration check point. We unloaded, had our passports stamped and loaded up again for another 2.5 hours to Playa El Tunco. Once again we traveled through mountainous rural Central America with a few medium sized cities in between. Central America has much beauty, although we learned that 92% of El Salvador is deforested. This means that the virgin forests are virtually gone. When you travel through, you will see many tropical trees but you can tell that they are mostly young.
We arrived at the beach on time and promptly split up into a couple of groups to find rooms. We layed to rest at La Pupa motel. It was very nice with a pretty plant garden, a community kitchen and hammocks outside. The room was a room with a bathroom and two beds, tile floors, a fan and a two minute walk to the beach. All for $18. Playa El Tunco is a very small community beach town known for its great surfing waves. There are numerous restaurants along the beach that are what I would call very open air restaurants. It's a great place to play. Thursday we got aquainted with the area. Then we played in the waves and did lot's of body surfing. Amy doesn't like to get slammed by the waves so she just went in long enough to get wet. Once, I was waiting for a wave only to look up to see Amy running for dear life toward the beach to out run the wave wash from the wave that had just come in. it was a pretty good size wave. There is an ice cream stand in Playa El Tunco that makes home made paletas, (popsicles). You can choose from flavors like, Fresa, sandia, ron con pasas, coco, mente con chocolate, mango or mango con chili, papaya or papaya con chili, Irish cream,and a few others we can't remember. Flavors in English that aren't obvious. In order, strawberry, watermelon, rum with raisins, coconut, mint with chocolate.
Friday, Kyle, Cristina, Max and Lori, and myself, took a surfing lesson. $15 each. Our guides were going to keep us close to shore but the waves were not cooperating, so they decided to take us "outside" to where the good "big" wave were happening. We looked at the girls, who had been a bit anxious to begin with, for a thumbs up. They smiled, shrugged, said "I guess", and we were off. Let's do it!! Those waves were beautiful. Good form, big, for us, nice cut to the right. Let's go surfin' now we are just learnin' how c'mon get wiped out with me. My play on the Beach Boys tune. After a good paddle out, the guides helped us position ourselves to be in the right spot to catch a wave. I should clarify that we did recieve a short surfing workshop on how to paddle and stand up along with other doos and don'ts. Of course that was done on the beach. Ten minutes later we were ready! YEAH!! I'm up next. OK get ready, NOW, paddle paddle. I catch the wave, pick up speed, grab the side of the board with my hands, push up. I get on one foot and one knee. Push to stand up and WIPE OUT! Ok, I come up for air, look for any approaching waves. Looks good, although there is a swell coming. I pull on my tag line, reel in the board and climb on top. I begin paddling to the side though I see I'm not away from the wave break. I roll off the board and dive under water beneath the wave, resurfacing to paddle to take position once again for the prize catch. My last wave of the day was one of the bigger ones. I started out at the crest of the wave and shot straight down the wall, which by the way is not the best form, but oh well. I felt like I was going a hundred miles per hour. I could feel the board skipping across the glassy surface. Once again, on one foot and one knee, i push up to stand and double WIPE OUT!! Oh well, we had fun. We all had good rides and wipe outs even if we never stood up. It was a beautiful sunny day with warm water and good times.
After passport check we loaded up and made the 2.5 hour trip through mountainous rural Guatemala to another Guatemalan border, bordering El Salvador. After stopping to have the Guatemalan immigration officer stamp our passports, we loaded up again to drive two blocks to the El Salvadorian immigration check point. We unloaded, had our passports stamped and loaded up again for another 2.5 hours to Playa El Tunco. Once again we traveled through mountainous rural Central America with a few medium sized cities in between. Central America has much beauty, although we learned that 92% of El Salvador is deforested. This means that the virgin forests are virtually gone. When you travel through, you will see many tropical trees but you can tell that they are mostly young.
We arrived at the beach on time and promptly split up into a couple of groups to find rooms. We layed to rest at La Pupa motel. It was very nice with a pretty plant garden, a community kitchen and hammocks outside. The room was a room with a bathroom and two beds, tile floors, a fan and a two minute walk to the beach. All for $18. Playa El Tunco is a very small community beach town known for its great surfing waves. There are numerous restaurants along the beach that are what I would call very open air restaurants. It's a great place to play. Thursday we got aquainted with the area. Then we played in the waves and did lot's of body surfing. Amy doesn't like to get slammed by the waves so she just went in long enough to get wet. Once, I was waiting for a wave only to look up to see Amy running for dear life toward the beach to out run the wave wash from the wave that had just come in. it was a pretty good size wave. There is an ice cream stand in Playa El Tunco that makes home made paletas, (popsicles). You can choose from flavors like, Fresa, sandia, ron con pasas, coco, mente con chocolate, mango or mango con chili, papaya or papaya con chili, Irish cream,and a few others we can't remember. Flavors in English that aren't obvious. In order, strawberry, watermelon, rum with raisins, coconut, mint with chocolate.
Friday, Kyle, Cristina, Max and Lori, and myself, took a surfing lesson. $15 each. Our guides were going to keep us close to shore but the waves were not cooperating, so they decided to take us "outside" to where the good "big" wave were happening. We looked at the girls, who had been a bit anxious to begin with, for a thumbs up. They smiled, shrugged, said "I guess", and we were off. Let's do it!! Those waves were beautiful. Good form, big, for us, nice cut to the right. Let's go surfin' now we are just learnin' how c'mon get wiped out with me. My play on the Beach Boys tune. After a good paddle out, the guides helped us position ourselves to be in the right spot to catch a wave. I should clarify that we did recieve a short surfing workshop on how to paddle and stand up along with other doos and don'ts. Of course that was done on the beach. Ten minutes later we were ready! YEAH!! I'm up next. OK get ready, NOW, paddle paddle. I catch the wave, pick up speed, grab the side of the board with my hands, push up. I get on one foot and one knee. Push to stand up and WIPE OUT! Ok, I come up for air, look for any approaching waves. Looks good, although there is a swell coming. I pull on my tag line, reel in the board and climb on top. I begin paddling to the side though I see I'm not away from the wave break. I roll off the board and dive under water beneath the wave, resurfacing to paddle to take position once again for the prize catch. My last wave of the day was one of the bigger ones. I started out at the crest of the wave and shot straight down the wall, which by the way is not the best form, but oh well. I felt like I was going a hundred miles per hour. I could feel the board skipping across the glassy surface. Once again, on one foot and one knee, i push up to stand and double WIPE OUT!! Oh well, we had fun. We all had good rides and wipe outs even if we never stood up. It was a beautiful sunny day with warm water and good times.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Back in the US
The last weeks of school were a little harried, so now that we're on vacation in the US for a couple of months, it's time to get caught up on our blog. We finally figured out that we spend as much on coffee and licuados in order to use internet at a cafe as we would if we had it at home, so we're going to have internet at our house next year. Apparently, we can get devices that plug into the USB port and we can buy minutes (or bytes) similarly to how we buy minutes for our phone. This will make it a lot easier for us to just get on the computer and type away.
Our last day in Honduras was spent in Honduras' 2nd largest city of San Pedro Sula. I could not believe it could get any hotter than it was in Copan Ruinas, but SPS was hotter. We had errands to "run", so we filled up our water bottle and walked very slowly. We visited the bank, only to be told that they couldn't do currency exchanges on Saturdays and to come back Monday (our flight was on Sunday), went to the mall (very expensive), went to a touristy shopping area, followed sightings of a large church to a town center and some sort of music event, and did a bit of random wandering around. Back at the Dos Molinos B&B, I had a serious debate about whether or not to turn on the hot water (if there was any). Surprisingly, "no" was the easy winner and I enjoyed some cool off time in the coldish shower.
We flew into Portland to gray skies and cool weather. Is there no happy medium?
Our last day in Honduras was spent in Honduras' 2nd largest city of San Pedro Sula. I could not believe it could get any hotter than it was in Copan Ruinas, but SPS was hotter. We had errands to "run", so we filled up our water bottle and walked very slowly. We visited the bank, only to be told that they couldn't do currency exchanges on Saturdays and to come back Monday (our flight was on Sunday), went to the mall (very expensive), went to a touristy shopping area, followed sightings of a large church to a town center and some sort of music event, and did a bit of random wandering around. Back at the Dos Molinos B&B, I had a serious debate about whether or not to turn on the hot water (if there was any). Surprisingly, "no" was the easy winner and I enjoyed some cool off time in the coldish shower.
We flew into Portland to gray skies and cool weather. Is there no happy medium?
Monday, May 9, 2011
Mango Treat
Here is something a little different.
Buy a mango or two. Get them a little firm.
Peel it with a potato peeler, then slice it up.
Mix ground cumin with ground black pepper, equal parts and add salt to taste.
Sprinkle the spices on the mango and enjoy.
Green, as in not ripe, mangoes are popular here, and eaten the same as above. At first I didn't like them but they have grown on me. They are tart and crunchy.
Buen Provecho!
Alex
Buy a mango or two. Get them a little firm.
Peel it with a potato peeler, then slice it up.
Mix ground cumin with ground black pepper, equal parts and add salt to taste.
Sprinkle the spices on the mango and enjoy.
Green, as in not ripe, mangoes are popular here, and eaten the same as above. At first I didn't like them but they have grown on me. They are tart and crunchy.
Buen Provecho!
Alex
Lago Yojoa
Lago Yojoa
5-6-2011
Lago Yojoa (Yojoa Lake) is a beautiful lake in north eastern Honduras nestled within a beautiful mountain setting featuring cascadas (waterfalls) and a forest preserve,the Parque Nacional Cerro Azul/Meambar. The area is said to host more than 300 species of birds. We had a three day weekend and took advantage of the travel opportunity with three other couples, David & Sarah, Kyle & Christina and Dave & Regan.
We departed Copan early Saturday morning April 30th boarding one of the so called chicken busses, so named for the fact that they can get packed with standing room only. Although in the past it was common for people to board with chickens and such. Maybe they should be called sardine busses. This bus was the older school bus type and we were fortunate that there was sitting room only. There are more “plush” busses with a movie and snacks but they cost more and don’t go as fast. Even though the chicken busses stop fairly frequently to pick up and drop off passengers, they will arrive about a half hour sooner. It takes three hours from Copan to San Pedro Sula along windy two lane mountain roads honking the air horn as we zoom through frequent small villages. Arriving in S.P.S we got a quick bite to eat at the bus terminal. After a doughnut and pizza for me and chicken mole, rice and corn tortillas for Amy we headed to the departure area to find our next bus to Pena Blanca.
Walking out to the bank of departing busses we were bombarded with "front men" trying to coax us on to their busses by promising a better deal and fast arrival time. We inquired at one chicken bus where the front man was very persistent before we checked out a different smaller more comfy bus with air conditioning. The guys at the comfy bus were not as aggressive and it was going to cost seven more Lempiras with a bit later departure time. After some debate between us we opted for thee old chicken bus. There is no ticket counter to purchase tickets, so the procedure is to board the bus and the front man will take your money some time after the bus is on the road. We boarded, sat down and waited a bit longer than the departure time given us when the comfy bus started to back out of its slot. Seeing this, the front man, who was a young guy of small frame with a lot of energy, started hitting our bus with the palm of his hand and yelling at the other bus, “arriba”! “arriba”! (we’re up, we’re up). At this the other bus stopped backing out and our front man jumped into our bus, closed the door and sat down in between the driver and the steps. Little did we know, the race was about to begin.
For simple sake I will call our driver, Driver, and our front man, Crazy. Driver backs the bus out of the slot and immediately begins with a heavy foot and fast shifting as we pull out of the depot. Close behind is the smaller more comfy bus. At the next intersection there was a man standing on the side of the street with some boxes. Crazy jumps up, opens the door and begins hanging out waving one arm and yelling at the guy on the side in rapid Spanish. Before the bus stops, Crazy jumps off at a run and the two men throw the boxes on the bus and Crazy jumps back on. We then enter the intersection cutting off traffic as we make the left turn. Off and runnin’ we went. As we approached each bus stop, Crazy would start yelling and waving his hands as he would open the door and hang out holding on with one hand trying to persuade people to take our bus. Sometimes Driver would speed up to get in front of the bus ahead of us and Crazy would hang out waving his arms at the other bus driver letting him know we were going to cut in front of them. Another time, we literally pulled up behind another bus stopped at a bus stop and Crazy swiped some passengers from them. Sometimes when Crazy would jump off of the bus, hitting the ground, he would do a little dance or shuffle to slow his speed before hustling customers. One time Crazy jumped out, squatted, did a little spin, and ran away calling to the travelers. We think he was on something, but he did have a knack for getting people on the bus. Soon we found ourselves racing one of the other busses after it passed us by. It was a dead heat to the next stop as the two busses were swerving from lane to lane to get around the other traffic. Peddles to the metal, grinding gears, and black diesel exhaust spewing from the bus ahead of us, I observed even locals flinching and tensing as we would zoom by within inches of a bicyclist on the side of the road. We all looked at each other in amazement and start laughing. “Holy cow we’re in a race!” And to think we were debating on taking a different bus. Think of the adventure we would have missed! I told Amy that if we die we will be found with smiles on our faces.
Once we turned off of the main highway we had a calmer but fairly fast ride to Pena Blanca. Pena Blanca is a small town at the northwest corner of the lake and is a point of connection for busses traveling in different directions. It is a bustling little town with small shops selling everyday things from fruits and veggies to hats. Crazy had told us he would tell us where to get off, so we stayed on the bus while passengers departed and boarded until we started again down the road. We got about a half mile out of town when Crazy looked at Kyle and asked why we were still on the bus. Kyle asked if we were heading toward Hotel Agua Azul, and Crazy said no and that we had to catch a different bus back at town which continued going straight through and out of town. Crazy told Driver to stop, so we exited the bus and walked back to town. We boarded another bus half the size and had a very leisurely ride for the next few miles to the hotel.
To be continued….
Monday, April 25, 2011
Alfombras
Thursday evening at five PM, sixty to seventy people gathered at one of the streets alongside the central park to begin the creation of the Semana Santa alfombras (carpets). The first procedure was to take all of the bags of uncolored sawdust that were distributed along the block and empty them on top of the cobblestone.
After we emptied the bags, people took rakes and brooms to the sawdust to spread it out. Next, we took long boards to use as screeds (similar to spreading out concrete) to level out the sawdust, making several passes, pulling the boards over the sawdust to get out any humps and swales. After the sawdust was fairly level, we placed cardboard on the sawdust and "danced" on it to tamp the sawdust down. Each person used two pieces of cardboard, placing one in front of the other to travel the full length of the street, pressing the sawdust down. After this was done, string lines were placed to ensure the proper spacing of the alfombras, then out came the sawdust that I helped color last week. We found out when it was time to place the image on the flattened sawdust that we teachers from Escuela Mayatan would have our own alfombra.
After we emptied the bags, people took rakes and brooms to the sawdust to spread it out. Next, we took long boards to use as screeds (similar to spreading out concrete) to level out the sawdust, making several passes, pulling the boards over the sawdust to get out any humps and swales. After the sawdust was fairly level, we placed cardboard on the sawdust and "danced" on it to tamp the sawdust down. Each person used two pieces of cardboard, placing one in front of the other to travel the full length of the street, pressing the sawdust down. After this was done, string lines were placed to ensure the proper spacing of the alfombras, then out came the sawdust that I helped color last week. We found out when it was time to place the image on the flattened sawdust that we teachers from Escuela Mayatan would have our own alfombra.
Each alfombra had a square center and an outer border with one color used for the center and another for the border. Each alfombra had its own image, and ours was Jesus portrayed as a Sheppard with His sheep. We had different colors of sawdust to choose from for Jesus' ropa (clothes), and we were all barefoot as we had to be careful on the sawdust. As a result, we all went home with colored feet and hands. We were also allowed to create a design for decorating the border. Many onlookers were lining the street all through the night along with the occasional stray dog prancing unaware across the length of the alfombras. The damage was very minimal until someone would shew the dog and it bolted away only to do more damage. As we were getting close to finishing the alfombra we let some "stray" kids help with the finishing touches and they were very excited. Our alfombra was finally finished and it only took seven hours. We took a break, walked over to a small pickup truck and grabbed some empanadas for a midnight snack. Amy was tired and went home to be, but I decided to stay for a spell to guard our alfombra and help with the cleanup. After about another hour I turned down a cup of coffee with rum and stumbled home on tired piernas (legs) and the next morning I learned that some people stayed all night to guard the alfombras and evidently were nipping at the rum I turned down.
On Good Friday morning we arrived in central park at nine to join the procession of the Stations of the Cross. As always, events very seldom start on time here, you might be told nine AM and nothing will happen until one or two hours later. Or you won’t get the necessary details you need to be in the right place at the right time, this time it was only about forty five minutes. Finally the church doors opened and out came the priest with people carrying a platform with a statue of Jesus carrying the cross. Jesus was about two thirds the size of a real adult with a wig for hair. Other places in Central America have real life reenactments, which was done last year here in Copan. Behind Jesus were statues of two women and a man, presumably the people who helped Him on His walk. The statues of the two women were half the size of Jesus and the man was a bit taller than the two women, and they also had wigs on. The wigs on the women were very long full wigs that looked as if they had been permed. I have to admit it was a bit freaky When the procession reached the fourth station, another small procession came down the hill from the opposite direction. Behold it was a statue of Mother Mary coming to reenact the meeting between her and Jesus. When Mary arrived, she leaned over and kissed Jesus and then joined the procession. The procession paused for a time for prayers at each station. It was hot outside and one lady who looked like she was in her sixties passed out in the street. She was carried to the side where people started flicking water on her with their fingers until the medics took over. She was ok. We reached the last station at the satellite church at the top of the hill three hours later where they stored the statues until the next procession later that night. By this time we were exhausted and ready for a nap.
During the procession of the Stations of the Cross, Amy saw one of her students and he told her that, “tonight is really cool because He comes out in a coffin”, and sure enough.
We were told that the Friday night procession would commence at seven PM, and it did but from the small church up on the hill. We arrived downtown at 6:30PM and sat down beside our alfombra and waited under intermittent showers with crowds who would come and go, and yes the random stray dog pawing its signature across the alfombras. Just when some of our group was getting impatient, there, there was a glimpse of the parade .It’s coming, they will be here soon. Another half hour later at ten PM from around the corner appeared the procession with Jesus in a coffin. The procession paused at the one end of the alfombras for a prayer and then proceeded over the alfombras. As they walked down the length of the alfombras with music songs and prayers emitting from a bull horn, they paused frequently for prayers as children began filing in behind them to finally get the chance to play on the colored and trampled sawdust. Behind the procession the images became a swirling mix of color that was just as beautiful as the images before and as the procession entered the church as it started to rain.
Saturday was a day of rest. We were invited to our Spanish teacher Nellies’ property for lunch and visiting. Oh, and a good opportunity to practice our Spanish. We sat outside under a large covered area and enjoyed soup and grilled chicken. There were three couples from Escuela Mayatan who attended. After our meal and some good conversation we were just getting ready to go across the street to the river when it started to rain so we opted to sit down for a few games of uno. As the rain began it came down harder and harder. When it rains here it rains . I looked at everyone and said, “Now I know where all the stray cats and dogs come from.” The rain lasted for a while so we just enjoyed our time with Nellie’s family. We strolled around and looked at the different fruit trees, plants and herbs they have growing. Nellie pulled up some basil and mint plants for us to take home to plant .She had an oregano plant growing that looked like a small tree, and very aromatic. Nellies brother in law is building a beautiful house next door so they took us to see it. They have a finish carpenter working full time on site milling all of the finish work and building doors, cabinetry, windows, furniture etc. I noted some good ideas for furniture. It was a very nice afternoon, and before we left Nellie told us we were welcome to go there any time to sit and study our Spanish and do our homework. We will have to consider that as it is a very nice setting.
Sunday morning we asked what time Easter service started. We were told it started at ten AM. We walked down to the church at ten and the doors were closed but there were people sitting outside in there nice cloths looking as if they were waiting for the service. We sat and waited a few minutes and saw some friends who were waiting also so we walked over to talk with them about the possibility of the service not happening for a while. We decided that we did not feel like waiting around all morning so we went home, giving up on Easter Mass. After I changed into cooler clothing I strolled to the market for some fruits and veggies and other household items. As I was walking back home through the park I spotted a procession coming down the hill carrying a three foot tall statue of Jesus with outstretched arms, this time with no wig They turned to the right at the corner of the street so I knew I had time to get back home to tell Amy. I began jogging with my bags in hand. I hurried to opened, the gate and ran down the porch to our door. Entering the apartment I yelled, “Amy, c-mon, hurry we have to go, Jesus has risen,” the procession is coming to the church.” We hurried out the door and closed it behind us not realizing I didn’t have my keys until I went to lock the gate.” Oh well, we’ll have to deal with it when we get back”. When we arrived downtown we only had to wait about ten minutes before the outstretched arms of the tiny Jesus appeared around the corner. The procession being led by a police truck was moving at a steady pace with triumphant music and prayers coming forth from the bullhorn. Reaching the church, the procession disappeared inside. Thus the culmination of Semana Santa was finally at hand. We strolled back home feeling satisfied that we didn’t miss any of the events. We approached our door wondering how we were going to get inside, knowing full well that our landlord most likely didn’t have a spare key when Amy decided to put her shoulder to the door. Giving the knob a turn and thrusting her wait into the door, the door flew open. With her mouth open, she began to laugh with a look of disbelief. Miracles do happen.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Tamales and Church
Tamales and Church
Since we are heading toward Easter weekend and have some time during the week-long holiday, we decided it would be nice to make tamales. Dry corn flour is available at the store, but I wanted to get the fresh ground stuff since it is readily available here. The mother of one of the teacher’s has an electric grinder and has access to getting the properly prepared corn. The corn that is used is the larger kernel corn like what is used for hominy. It is cooked in water and lye for about two days which causes the skin on the kernels to come off. After cooking, the corn is soaked in water and rinsed for a period of time and finally is ready to be ground. We acquired the masa, cooked and shredded a chicken and put it in a red chili sauce made from dried red chilis we bought at the market and found ourselves with enough ingredients for sixty tamales. We also made some containing roasted peppers and cheese. Hondurans use green banana leaves to wrap their tamales, but we made ours in the Mexican style by wrapping the masa and filling with corn husks. Hondurans do use corn husks for some “tamales,” but these are called churros when they are made with beans and chuchitos when they are made with meat. Chucho is another name for perro which is a dog, so a chuchito is a puppy, making these types of tamales “puppies.” If you ask for a tamale when chuchitos are being served, the Hondurans will look at you and say, “We don’t have any tamales.”
As we noted in our blog, we were planning on going to church last Sunday. Our landlord and family go to the Catholic Church and since we are helping with the alfombras sponsored by the Catholic church, we thought that would be a good place to go. I asked Amy the night before if we should ask them what time the service starts. Amy said no and that it started at around eight thirty. Sunday morning we headed to downtown and saw some people milling around outside the church. The doors were open with no-one inside so we sat down on the low wall in front. We waited for twenty minutes or so before Amy decided to ask a lady, who looked as if she was waiting also, what time the service started. The lady told us that there was a procession coming and when they arrived the service would begin. We sat and waited for another twenty minutes when a young man carrying a white cloth came out from inside the church. He was heading in the same direction that the lady had pointed, so we decided to do the sneaky and follow him. Maybe he was going to find the procession. I eventually caught up with him and asked him if he was going to join the procession, and indeed he was. As we approached the top of the hill we saw a large crowd of people standing in front and along the sidewalks of a small satellite building of the larger church downtown. The large crowd milling around visiting in the street stared at us when we walked by seeing that we were the only gringos around. We decided to sit on the curb and wait for the procession to begin. We sat for fifteen minutes or so and decided since we didn’t attend the church we ought not join the procession, so we agreed to walk to the market for some items we needed and give the procession time to proceed.
We spent about a half hour at the market then walked home to have a snack and I would periodically walk the block and a half to see if the procession was coming. After about fifteen minutes I ventured out on my small journey for an inspection and when I arrived at the corner I noticed a group of people crowding the entry and spilling out into the front yard of the church. I asked a man sitting on the corner of the sidewalk if the procession had arrived and he confirmed that it had. I turned around and returned home. Walking in the door I told Amy “ Well, we missed the procession.” “We missed it? You’ve got to be kidding?” she replied. After all of that waiting, in the blink of an eye we had missed it. We thought about going up to the church but there was no way of getting inside to hear the service. Maybe on Easter.
Seder
Max and David, two teachers at school, are both of Jewish descent. Tuesday night, Max and Lori invited us all over for a Seder, the celebration in honor of Passover and the exodus of the Jews out of Egypt. Nineteen of us sat at the table set with wine and unleavened matza bread to begin the ceremony. Max had printed the instructions and prayers so all of us could follow along and participate in the recital. It was very interesting to learn about the history in a different light from a different culture, for example the meaning of the unleavened bread. What was the symbolism behind it? It turns out that there is a very simple explanation. When the Jews fled Egypt, there wasn’t time to allow the bread to rise because they had to leave so quickly. I then asked what the reason is behind the unleavened bread or wafers in Christianity. One person said that it represents the body of Christ, which I knew, but why unleavened? Then the resounding voices of the multitude proclaimed. At the Last Supper, Jesus and His disciples were celebrating Passover. Ahh, it all makes sense now. I don’t remember learning that in bible school. I always thought that the last supper was wholly a Christian tradition. It is amazing what you can glean by experiencing a larger community of customs. Then began the delicious meal, as authentic as you can get in Honduras. It was prepared by Max, Lori, David and Sarah and included authentic Mexican-Jewish tamales prepared by the Rangels,. We ate until our bellies were full, washed it down with a bit of wine (we drank four glasses of wine as part of the ceremony) and sat down to a nice discussion about religion over dessert. We learned much from Max about the topic of the Gaza strip conflict and its causes. Max has some very good insight on the subject and presents it in a non-judgmental manner. He is sympathetic to the struggle of both sides. We said our thank yous and went home for a good night sleep.
Thursday afternoon we will be helping with the construction of the sawdust alfombras (carpets). We will begin at five p.m. and work through the night to finish them for the next morning. I will have more to share later. We have also been invited by our Spanish teacher Nellie to join their gathering at the river on Saturday for food and activities. It appears that all of the festivities will commence on Friday. There's no school on Monday to culminate our holiday week, so we don't know if we'll be celebrating until Monday or if that is a day of rest after all of the Semana Santa activities. More to come.
Dona Lucas
4/20/11 - Alex Rangel
No, Dona Lucas is not another bird. Last Thursday after school, Amy, I, two other teachers, Lo and Tiffany, and Tiffany’s father Tom who was visiting from the states, started the one hour uphill climb to Llanatios, (pronounced Yanatios). Llanatios is an Aldea (village) up in the mountains behind the school. Following the dirt road, we passed through pine forests mixed with other typical tropical trees and plants, enjoying occasional vistas of the valley and the town of Copan below. Llanatios is a quaint little village nestled within the swales and hills of the mountain top. Dona, (similar to Senora but denotes a higher elevation of respect) Lucas and her esposo (husband) Napolean live on a hillside where they tend to their daily living activities.They are sixtyish and have a number of grandchildren, one of which is a student of Amy’s. It is evident that she loves them very much.The two of them are almost completely self sustaining on their land where they grow their own crops. Among the crops are bananas, pina (pineapple), cana de azucar (sugarcane), café (coffee), maize (corn), frijoles (beans), calabaca (squash), pollos (chickens), a fruit that is similar to passion fruit, mango, papaya, aguacate (avocado), and other things we don’t know.
Dona Lucas is also known for her traditional pottery making. Not only does she make the pottery but she and Napolean mine the clay from a location near their home. If you want to have a lesson in pottery making, all you have to do is call to make a date and she will be waiting for you with smiles and outstreached arms. After your lesson, she will keep your piece, fire it for you and you can pick it up at a later date. Then the real treat comes after with the nice meal that she has prepared for you. The pottery lessons and meal are just 100 Lempiras, the equivalent of $5. Or you can travel up the hill like we did Thursday evening for just a meal and a visit for 50 lempiras.
We arrived to see Dona standing under her porch waiting to greet us. The overhang of the porch at the outside edge is about five foot nine inches tall and even I have to duck to walk under the even lower support beam. Amy’s eyeballs are even with the end of the overhang. The house is made of adobe and consists of a couple of small rooms for living space and a kitchen that is a third the size of the rest of the house. Oh yes, and an outhouse. Her cooking areas, also made of adobe, are a wood fired oven with a place on top to burn wood for heating pots. On the other end is a permanently set clay skillet with a cubby for the fire below it. There is no ceiling in the house, only blackened open rafters with a tile roof. There is no chimney for the wood fire cooking, so it can get very smokey inside at times. We entered the kitchen to find a big pot of black beans simmering and some fresh corn masa that had been ground in her handcranked meat grinder.
Dona asked Lo if she would toast some squash seeds, so Lo put the seeds on the clay skillet and began stirring and roasting. After the seeds were nice and toasted, she put them in the meat grinder and ground them to a medium grind. Dona then took the corn masa and began grinding it by hand on her stone grinding pad that her mother bought fifty years ago. Dona does this to grind the corn masa a bit more fine. She places a big ball of masa on the back end of the grinding pad from which she pulls small amounts forward with the grinding stone. She makes about ten quick passes and then whisks it up with her hand to form it into a ball. She would then hand it to one of us to pat it out with our hands into a tortilla. After attempting to shape it into a nice spherical shape that ended up looking more like one of the continents, we threw the uncooked tortilla on the skillet for its one minute per side cooking time. After we had a nice stack of fresh tortillas, we sat down to eat. Dona served us each a big bowl of black beans and placed the bowl of toasted and ground squash seeds on the table. What are the squash seeds for? I asked. Sprinkle them on the beans was the reply. I did as I was told and what a treat. It was a new experience in culinary magic. Seconds? Of course. We ate until we were full and then were served Dona’s coffee grown on her plants, roasted on her skillet and sweetened from the residual sugar left from the pressing of the sugar cane for the jugo de cana (juice of the cane). This sugar is very brown, but is nothing like the brown sugar we know, and is 100% non-processed. We buy this in cakes at the market for our household sweetening. Last but not least, Napolean, brought us each a fruit from a vine outside the front door to have for dessert. Full and happy after our meal and visit, we said our goodbyes and started our trek back down the mountain, stopping at a view point to revel at the red orange ball of a setting sun in the western sky as it illuminated the red clay banks on the sides of the dirt road. A perfect ending to a perfect afternoon.
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