New Year’s Eve Adventure
It was roughly 5 pm on New Year’s Eve when our landlord Gilda (pronounced “Hilda”) came to our door to give us some very tasty pan dulce, sweet bread, that she had made. She also invited us to a fiesta at the house of some relatives of hers. We had told her in the past that we would like for her to speak Spanish as she speaks better Spanish than she does English and to give us the chance to practice our Spanish. It is also funny to note that both parties are pretending to understand (or thinking that we understand) more than we really do. She gave us directions to the location in Spanish, as we had asked. Amy and I understood, or so we thought, most of the directions and we would glance at each other for encouragement and comfort. We did know fiesta time was around 10 to 10:30 pm.
At 9 pm, we ventured two blocks to the town square where boys were having a blast with their fireworks. We sat down on one of the long concrete benches and admired the smoke filled air. A favorite firework was a small loud whistling one that shot spiraling horizontally through the air. The boys were, of course, shooting them at each other. We sat cautiously amused and hoped we didn’t become a target. There were a couple of close ones. Another favorite was a triangular “bomb” that was about the size of a 4 inch cube that made us jump even when we were expecting it. We were getting ready to leave when we happened into an ex-pat we had met before we left for Christmas. We chatted with him (or, rather, he chatted with us) and his Honduran wife (of note is that he is at least 50 and made sure we knew that his wife is 27) until five minutes to 10 when we set out on our way to find the fiesta.
Down the cobblestone streets we went, past shops, bars and residences with New Year’s spirit playing loudly through speakers. Eventually, we strolled along a quiet moonlit stretch of road to the “place” where we thought we were supposed to end up. (An unrelated side note: At this moment, Mariachis are playing outside at the restaurant next door. Can’t beat that. Back to the story…) We stood in the empty street in front of the big construction supply store looking around wondering, “There doesn’t seem to be anything around here that looks like a party. There aren’t any cars, no houses, no lights. I could swear!” “I thought you knew where it was.” “I thought you knew where it was.” “I understood it to be here”. “Look half-way up that street to the right, looks like there is a party there. Maybe that’s it.” (Another side note: Now we have the church on the other side of us singing. Church music and Mariachis mixing. Where else can you get that! Aye, aye, aye!)
We took a chance and headed up the road to redeem ourselves. Alongside the house was a driveway that led to the backyard where there was a party, complete with tables underneath free standing canopies. We walked up to the open door of the house and saw one of Gilda’s nieces, so we were very proud to have found the party. We entered the house and walked up to a table where three ladies were sitting. They all looked at us smiling and seemed very glad to see us saying, “Hola, hola.” Amy approached them and asked for Gilda. They, speaking in Spanish and not knowing what Amy asked because she didn’t pronounce it quite right, shrugged and asked, “Que?” Amy repeated, “Gilda?” They looked at each other then turned to Amy and said, “No, no Gilda”. We decided to go out to the backyard to ask and look around. We promptly received the same response.
Walking back to the street, we asked each other, “What do you think?” “I don’t know.” Suddenly a teenage boy approached us and said, “I speak English. Who are you looking for?” We told him, and he shook his head saying, “No, I don’t know.” Feeling defeated, we thanked him and decided to walk a bit further up the road. We made it about half a block, but both of us felt like we were going in the wrong direction, so we turned around and began our descent back down the road of unknowing. It is said you have to descend into darkness before you reach enlightenment. Fate had it that we would have to walk back by the non-party party. As we approached the driveway there were a couple of ladies and a gentleman watching us and talking amongst themselves. We walked by, saying hello again, when the gentleman asked, “Are you ok?” We said yes and explained our predicament, adding that it was Gilda from Annie Express and she also works at Maytan School. He relayed this to the ladies and they said, “Oh, si. Rapid Spanish Spanish Spanish.”
After a moment of holding our breath at the prospect of a breakthrough, the gentleman told us that Gilda’s party was down about two blocks and to the right but we would need help finding it. “The kids can take you there but they can’t do it right now so would you like to come in and have a drink and a bite to eat”? We looked at each other. “Well, uh, what do you think?” “You should come in. You can eat and the kids will take you there.” We felt we might be intruding, but also didn’t want to add insult to the offer. He insisted and in we went. We sat down at the tables and people were smiling and waving at us like we were old friends. There were a few who looked like they were wondering who the hell we were. I struck up a conversation with a boy, the son of the gentleman, who it turns out lives in Rhode Island and came home for the holidays. Amy sat with the man’s wife and chatted with her. I eventually joined them and we each had a plate of food and a beer.
After about a half hour, two ladies said they would take us to our party. We said our goodbyes and off we went. We arrived at a large gate at a house that was very quiet as if everyone was sleeping. One lady knocked on the gate. In a moment the gate opened and a groundskeeper appeared. The lady explained our predicament in Spanish, but the groundskeeper shook his head and we understood him to say, “There is no one here.” He did motion for us to go up the hill past the party from where we came, so off we went again to find the Gilda, one lady making the trek up the rough cobblestone streets in clog type shoes and the other in high heels. The two ladies had to hold hands to help support each other, sacrificing for fashion Honduras style. We wound our way up the hill to a house with another big gate where we entered into the backyard. We saw some kids from school, who were trying to hide from us, and began feeling confident. There was a small party going on but we didn’t see any Gilda or Ada or Annie.
Our escort talked to another lady, the host, about our plight. They chatted in their expressive manner, and the host said that Gilda was not there but she would call her. As they conversed on the phone, Gilda agreed to meet us at the first party so off we went again, back down the hill to the first party. When we arrived, some of the partiers were dancing in the backyard. We sat down and started on a second beer when a lady motioned for us to come out on the dance gravel. Taking advantage of the opportunity, we stepped into our dancing shoes. We got in three dances when Gilda appeared. I grabbed my beer and off we went waving goodbye. As we walked with our long lost Gilda, she told us that the people throwing the party we were at were relatives of her sister-in-law, Ada and the young girl we saw when we were there the first time had strolled over to Gildas party but failed to mention that she saw us. Gilda also told us that the lady that called her on the phone told her there were a couple of gringos looking for her. We can only imagine that conversation:
Lady: Buenas noches, Gilda. Happy New Year. We have a couple of gringos here who are looking for you. Do you know who they are?
Gilda: Ha, ha. Oh yes, they work with me and live at my house. We’d forgotten all about them.
Lady: Do you think you can do something about them. They’re apparently crashing New Year’s parties all over town.
Gilda: Yes, of course, I’ll come get them.
We arrived, finally, at the beloved party where we were promptly fed again. This party was to the right and behind the big construction supply store where we were at the beginning. If we had walked another ten feet, we would have been able to see down the dirt driveway to the party.
We brought in the new year and watched the fireworks out over the town. We all hugged and wished each other un feliz ano nuevo. It was very nice. It was a nice quiet ending to an evening of the unknown. Maybe... We stayed until about 1:30 am and figured it was time to head home. The shortest way home was to walk by the first party we had stumbled onto. As we strolled down the middle of the street, we could still hear the music flooding out from the back yard and as we looked down the driveway to the backyard, we could see people still dancing. Before we could pass, two ladies looked up and saw us. They waved their arms and beckoned us in. We waved, took a few more steps and looking at each other, smiled and headed down the driveway back to the dance gravel.
