Hello all,
We made it back this morning! If you're thinking that we were supposed to be back yesterday, you're right. It's not a very fun story. In sum: Honduras airports run on Honduras time. Miami airports run on Miami time. So we got to do some running through Miami and Washington DC airports (what were we doing in DC? I have no idea) but regardless we were still a day late. Oh well.
I want to post some final thoughts, but that won't be until the next day or so. I did just want to tell everyone that I am happily sitting on my couch, in my living room, in my casa, ahorrita. Woohoo!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Los Ultimos Días
Well friends, today is our last day in Copán Ruinas. It’s been a great trip, but I think we are all feeling a little ready to come back home. Even though I know we haven’t, I feel like we have seen every nook and cranny of this tiny town in our three weeks here. Nevertheless, I am sad to go.
Last night the three of us and our new friend Haley went out to eat at one of the nicer restaurants as a final hurrah so that tonight we can have a final meal with our families. I got something called a Gringo Taco (Gringo is the name for white people in Latin America). It was great! They also brought us this bean dip balanced on top of hot coals. We had seen it around before, so it was nice to try it. As is the case everywhere here, there was a tour group of about 20 post-retirement adults at the table next to us. They were pretty funny to listen to :)
This morning I got up and went to kindergarten with Haley, it was my last day and her first, which made for a weird combination of emotions. We had planned to just stay together in my teacher’s class, but as soon as we got there, my teacher ran up to me and asked for a “favor”. She does this every time I come. Usually she asks me to cut out 20 trees, or trace a bunch of “s”s on colored paper. Typical stuff. So of course I said yes without waiting to see what she wanted. As it turns out, one of the other 4 kindergarten teachers hadn’t made it to school yet. She asked me to watch the other class until the teacher got there.
I quickly found myself in a new classroom with kids that I did not know and an odd assortment of parents. My teacher introduced me as “the teacher for this morning” and left. Awesome. And then as soon as the parents decided I wasn’t completely incapable, they left too. So it was me and 19 5-year-olds this morning. About every half hour, my teacher would pop her head in to tell me that the class’s teacher would be there any moment. Two hours later, she did come. It was a long morning. We colored lots of pictures, sang a lot of songs, and had many futile discussions about appropriate classroom behavior. Those two hours probably stretched my spanish has far as it has ever been! It turns out that the teacher had some kind of emergency at home with her daughter, which is an understandable reason not to make it to work on time. I would think that this happens fairly often, and it makes me wonder what they do when there aren’t random white girls roaming around the school grounds. The whole experience made me thankful to know that in the states we have subs and paras and teacher aides.
Collectively my experiences at the kindergarten have made me thankful for many facets of education in the states. I have agreed with almost none of the teaching strategies that are used in the kindergarten, and it has been difficult for me to assimilate what I am learning about education and educational theories with what I am learning about Honduran culture and educational expectations here. More on that later, maybe.
Today is our last four hours of class (hooray!) then supper then packing then ice cream. Tomorrow we will endure a three hour drive down this mountain to the airport. We really aren’t sure how things will go from there, and prayers would be awesome. There are rumors of exit taxes with exact change that we don’t have. I’m worried that we won’t make our connecting flight in Miami after working our way though US customs. If all goes smoothly Sam and I will spend the night in St. Louis at Sarah’s house and leave for Omaha at 8:30 Sunday morning. And just that quickly, this trip will come to a close.
Last night the three of us and our new friend Haley went out to eat at one of the nicer restaurants as a final hurrah so that tonight we can have a final meal with our families. I got something called a Gringo Taco (Gringo is the name for white people in Latin America). It was great! They also brought us this bean dip balanced on top of hot coals. We had seen it around before, so it was nice to try it. As is the case everywhere here, there was a tour group of about 20 post-retirement adults at the table next to us. They were pretty funny to listen to :)
This morning I got up and went to kindergarten with Haley, it was my last day and her first, which made for a weird combination of emotions. We had planned to just stay together in my teacher’s class, but as soon as we got there, my teacher ran up to me and asked for a “favor”. She does this every time I come. Usually she asks me to cut out 20 trees, or trace a bunch of “s”s on colored paper. Typical stuff. So of course I said yes without waiting to see what she wanted. As it turns out, one of the other 4 kindergarten teachers hadn’t made it to school yet. She asked me to watch the other class until the teacher got there.
I quickly found myself in a new classroom with kids that I did not know and an odd assortment of parents. My teacher introduced me as “the teacher for this morning” and left. Awesome. And then as soon as the parents decided I wasn’t completely incapable, they left too. So it was me and 19 5-year-olds this morning. About every half hour, my teacher would pop her head in to tell me that the class’s teacher would be there any moment. Two hours later, she did come. It was a long morning. We colored lots of pictures, sang a lot of songs, and had many futile discussions about appropriate classroom behavior. Those two hours probably stretched my spanish has far as it has ever been! It turns out that the teacher had some kind of emergency at home with her daughter, which is an understandable reason not to make it to work on time. I would think that this happens fairly often, and it makes me wonder what they do when there aren’t random white girls roaming around the school grounds. The whole experience made me thankful to know that in the states we have subs and paras and teacher aides.
Collectively my experiences at the kindergarten have made me thankful for many facets of education in the states. I have agreed with almost none of the teaching strategies that are used in the kindergarten, and it has been difficult for me to assimilate what I am learning about education and educational theories with what I am learning about Honduran culture and educational expectations here. More on that later, maybe.
Today is our last four hours of class (hooray!) then supper then packing then ice cream. Tomorrow we will endure a three hour drive down this mountain to the airport. We really aren’t sure how things will go from there, and prayers would be awesome. There are rumors of exit taxes with exact change that we don’t have. I’m worried that we won’t make our connecting flight in Miami after working our way though US customs. If all goes smoothly Sam and I will spend the night in St. Louis at Sarah’s house and leave for Omaha at 8:30 Sunday morning. And just that quickly, this trip will come to a close.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Las Enfermedades
Well today I got to experience a new part of Honduran culture: the healthcare system. We have all taken turns being sick throughout this trip, but yesterday (or maybe Monday?) my turn came around for a sequel. It was pretty bad. By this afternoon I hadn’t really eaten or drunken anything (or, rather, kept any of that in my system). It seemed like everyone around me sprang into action, each offering their own advice. I really appreciate their compassion, but sometimes when you’re sick you just don’t want to speak Spanish!
My host Padre was sure that he had had the same thing last week and wanted me to take some of his leftover prescription medication. Umm...no. Especially no because all of the ingredients were listed in Spanish--and as it turns out, that vocabulary isn’t my strength.
My host Madre was convinced that I needed to go to her doctor, Dr. Bocke. She gave me directions, and expected me to just walk out the door to his little practice. Also...no. I couldn’t find that place on a good day, and aimless walking wasn’t high on my to-do list.
Eventually I convinced Madre and Padre that I would go to school and see what the directors there thought. As I was walking out the door, the Madre yelled after me, “you need to go to the doctor! Your face looks like death!” Even then, it was kind of a funny thing to hear in Spanish.
I got to the school and experienced the sympathy of the directors and a few of the teachers. They each took turns telling me their graphic stories of when they, or their sister, or their neighbor three doors down had this. Apparently, this is a common infection in this part of Honduras during winter. It’s run of the mill for locals and travelers to catch it, but it pretty much stops everyone in their tracks. Bummer.
Eventually, after I got to chat with my mother (real mother! Not Madre, even though she’s good too) my teacher got to the school to take me to the doctor. Her 10 year old daughter came with us. Field Trip!
We found our way 3 blocks up to this random building I had never seen. We were the only ones there plus the doctor. No nurses, no receptionists, no other doctors. Just this guy. And the three of us. It seems logical now that they wouldn’t need a bustling doctor’s office like Americans love, but then it was a little surprising. I was definitely expecting something more akin to Off The Map.
Doctor took me into his office directly off the “waiting room” and asked me what was wrong. I was a little surprised that he was talking to me in Spanish, after being promised by multiple people that he spoke fluent English. Regardless, I answered him in especially lame Spanish and tried to explain the issue. We then went into his examination room. My first thought was that his room would be the perfect setting for a medical horror movie. If it had been at all appropriate, I would have taken a picture, it’s that classic.
Doctor took my temperature with a mercury thermometer and my blood pressure with something that looks like it’s been used in amputations. He pushed on my stomach a few times and then wrote me a prescription on a scrap of paper. After he finished writing, he looked at me and said, “300 limperas” (just like 15 dollars). It was his third sentence. Then I left, got back in the car with Mildia, and we went to the pharmacy. That was that. We were back at the school, medicine in hand, in thirty minutes.
Back at school everyone wanted a play by play and more opportunities to tell me about the time their best friend’s girlfriend had this, (I don’t remember the name of it. It starts with an “r” and has about 5 syllables and an “ñ” somewhere in there).
So now I am laying in bed, annoyed. We only have a very few days left here, and the last thing I want to be doing is writing a blog! Hopefully the medicine will kick in miraculously and I will be able to be up and about soon.
In other news, a new student came to the school on Sunday. Her name is Haylee and she is a senior at Auburn University. She seems pretty awesome, and we have enjoyed getting to know her! The four of us had plans to go Salsa dancing tonight...but we’ll see how well that pans out for me. (Not going to lie, I’m kind of relieved to have a legitimate excuse to skip salsa dancing :)
My host Padre was sure that he had had the same thing last week and wanted me to take some of his leftover prescription medication. Umm...no. Especially no because all of the ingredients were listed in Spanish--and as it turns out, that vocabulary isn’t my strength.
My host Madre was convinced that I needed to go to her doctor, Dr. Bocke. She gave me directions, and expected me to just walk out the door to his little practice. Also...no. I couldn’t find that place on a good day, and aimless walking wasn’t high on my to-do list.
Eventually I convinced Madre and Padre that I would go to school and see what the directors there thought. As I was walking out the door, the Madre yelled after me, “you need to go to the doctor! Your face looks like death!” Even then, it was kind of a funny thing to hear in Spanish.
I got to the school and experienced the sympathy of the directors and a few of the teachers. They each took turns telling me their graphic stories of when they, or their sister, or their neighbor three doors down had this. Apparently, this is a common infection in this part of Honduras during winter. It’s run of the mill for locals and travelers to catch it, but it pretty much stops everyone in their tracks. Bummer.
Eventually, after I got to chat with my mother (real mother! Not Madre, even though she’s good too) my teacher got to the school to take me to the doctor. Her 10 year old daughter came with us. Field Trip!
We found our way 3 blocks up to this random building I had never seen. We were the only ones there plus the doctor. No nurses, no receptionists, no other doctors. Just this guy. And the three of us. It seems logical now that they wouldn’t need a bustling doctor’s office like Americans love, but then it was a little surprising. I was definitely expecting something more akin to Off The Map.
Doctor took me into his office directly off the “waiting room” and asked me what was wrong. I was a little surprised that he was talking to me in Spanish, after being promised by multiple people that he spoke fluent English. Regardless, I answered him in especially lame Spanish and tried to explain the issue. We then went into his examination room. My first thought was that his room would be the perfect setting for a medical horror movie. If it had been at all appropriate, I would have taken a picture, it’s that classic.
Doctor took my temperature with a mercury thermometer and my blood pressure with something that looks like it’s been used in amputations. He pushed on my stomach a few times and then wrote me a prescription on a scrap of paper. After he finished writing, he looked at me and said, “300 limperas” (just like 15 dollars). It was his third sentence. Then I left, got back in the car with Mildia, and we went to the pharmacy. That was that. We were back at the school, medicine in hand, in thirty minutes.
Back at school everyone wanted a play by play and more opportunities to tell me about the time their best friend’s girlfriend had this, (I don’t remember the name of it. It starts with an “r” and has about 5 syllables and an “ñ” somewhere in there).
So now I am laying in bed, annoyed. We only have a very few days left here, and the last thing I want to be doing is writing a blog! Hopefully the medicine will kick in miraculously and I will be able to be up and about soon.
In other news, a new student came to the school on Sunday. Her name is Haylee and she is a senior at Auburn University. She seems pretty awesome, and we have enjoyed getting to know her! The four of us had plans to go Salsa dancing tonight...but we’ll see how well that pans out for me. (Not going to lie, I’m kind of relieved to have a legitimate excuse to skip salsa dancing :)
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