Giant Spider Attack!

So, I have to be a bit more careful about naming names in my blogs. So just so you know, every name I have ever uttered in this blog has been a big fat lie and really all names have been changed to protect the innocent. And this blog is not based on real life events and any similarity to persons, entities, or events is purely coincidental. (And the theme to Star Wars begins to play…)

Today I was walking down the street and the local crazy guy was singing operatically at the top of his lungs at a Honduran flag that was hanging on a door. Nobody was there. Just a flag. A few days earlier I saw the same man doing what looked like Tai-Chi in the middle of the street. I kind of wanted to join him on both occasions. Singing and tai-chi are very relaxing. Personally, I think he’s on to something.

So my dad and I had a convo on the phone the other day and he asked me if I had seen anything scary yet, like a tarantula. And I was like, “Weeellll no. Some of the others did on their site visits but you know, it’s the dry season and all that.” Somehow, deep down inside, I knew when this conversation left our mouths that my run of luck would be over. Sure enough, I was walking with my friends the other day and we stopped to pick up another friend at his house, and K-dog reached up to open the gate and there was a very angry scorpion sitting on the gate. I jumped about 12 feet backwards and my friend’s host dad started laughing. He tells us, “Oh don’t worry, that’s just because we just fumigated the house.” Oh really? That is supposed to make me feel BETTER? Dear God I hope my host mom has fumigated the house recently.

Then, that same night, we went to hammockland and Randersons saw a tarantula and caught it under a glass. WTF! And it was JUMPING in the glass!?! Did you know that tarantulas can jump? I am really NOT okay with that. AND THEN, I get a text message from a friend that says “There is a scary-a** spider on my ceiling.” The next day, I wake up and go to walk out to the street and a rat runs across my foot. (I kind of wanted to name it Cupcake until I realized it probably had rabies) And then, and I am not even kidding, my friend tells me that she had a RAT FAMILY living in her laundry!!! And she had only gone a week without doing it!

Thanks a lot, dad.

Dear God dad, I wrote that part of this blog like two days ago and guess what just happened. I just had an epic battle with a spider. I was outside at 1 in the morning because I totally couldn’t sleep and instead was just lying in the hammock listening to my iPod (it was like 5 degrees cooler outside). Then I basically decide that I might as well go back inside so that I don’t fall asleep in the hammock and then get malaria (from mosquitoes, not from the hammock). So I go to open the door to my room and a @*#% spider is hanging out on my door. A very large, hairy, and pointy-legged spider, who if I didn’t know any better, I swear had a pirate patch on a least 30 eyes. Well crap! Now what! So I am like screw this! So I sat back on my haunches staring at this spider for like 30 minutes. And I decide that malaria is more scary than a little bitty half-dollar sized spider. So I thankfully find a broom and muster up the courage to kill this bastard. BUT, turns out that my door is cracked open and that little bugger was freeking fast! So he totally ends up in my room! So now, I’m just pissed. So I walk back to the hammock, because you know there is no way in hell that I’m going into my room NOW.

So then, I am sitting in the hammock (all the while listening to my iPod) thinking WTF am I going to do now. So I go through my entire phone list in my cell phone trying to decide which one of my friends wouldn’t kill me for calling them at, now 2, in the morning for support in this spider issue (Mcat and Andy almost got phone calls). I finally decided that nobody would quite understand the dilemma and I should suck it up and put on my big girl panties. So I walk back to the door (broom in hand) and kind of puuuuush the door open ever-so-gently. Thankfully, I have a flashlight on my cell phone (that’s what you get for a $20 cell phone), so I’m shining my light in my room looking for this spider. So I take a flying leap into my room and run across the room and spin around with the broom armed like a bazooka. But I don’t see the spider. Great. So, after about 2 minutes of frozen standing, I decide that maybe it didn’t actually get into my room after all. So, I go back outside and put the broom down (because they will need it in the morning) and go back in my room and shut the door. BIG MISTAKE!

Spidey McScarytons was on the door the whole time lurking in an obscure crack. I let out the most silent bloodcurdling scream you have ever heard in your life (because, of course, I don’t want to wake my host mom. She is sawing logs in the next room). So, now I am trapped in my room without the broom, but with the golfball sized spider. What cruel twist of fate is this? So, I stare at it for awhile forming a plan and decide that I have no choice but to shoe-it. Of course, this means I have to get within arms length, and by now I have decided that not only is this spider fast, but clearly can jump great distances too. Great. So I grab a flip-flop and walk towards the door. Then I realize I have a flipflop in my hand (seriously Becky? A flipflop?). So I put that down and grab a boot. So I pretty much just stand there like a weeble-wobble wobbling trying to just smoosh the spider. Just smoooooosh the spider. So I take a leap at the spider and smack the door with the shoe. I MISSED!!! So now Eyepatch Spiderwick moves to the wall and clearly has become more wary. Shit.

So then, I figure that there is no way I am getting close with a shoe again. So, I gingerly open the door and super-man fly through the door, tuck and roll, and hop up and grab the broom. So then I sprinted into my room again and whirled around to face this @*(&#) spider who is at least the size of a small saucer. So now I am feeling confident and I smoosh at the spider. I MISSED AGAIN! (This people, is what happens when you don’t sleep for 6 weeks). So now he is on my ceiling and the situation has just escalated because there are many gaps in the ceiling for Spiderface Hairysons to lurk in. So I quickly take another stab with the broom and run outside again. Then I shine my flashlight (best $20 of my life) cellphone at the broom and THERE IS NO CORPSE! Dear God. At this point I am sweating bullets, my heart rate is at like 170 and the knot on my head is throbbing and I am convinced bleeding again. (forshadowing)

Now I have no idea where this spider is. But I am pretty sure I can spot it since it is about the size of a dinner plate. So I sprint inside real fast (this time I’m going to take it by surprise) and whirl around and stab at the spider with gusto this time. Screw not waking up host mom. So I think I get it and I run outside and shine a flashlight cellphone on the broom again. NO CORPSE! OMG. So, now I have no idea where this spider is. I’m hoping that I at least maimed it if I didn’t kill it, because nobody wants a spider the size of a Frisbee in their room.

I’m totally not sleeping tonight.

So the randomest coincidence happened the other day. I was chatting with one of my supervisors while we were in the immigration office getting our ID cards. So I was telling him about The Univeristy of Florida, and he tells me that there are a lot of Hondurans that go to school in some town called “Gainesville.” And I say, “Yeah, that’s the same university that I worked at. Actually, I have two Honduran friends who went there. One is named Sergio and he works in Belize and the other is named Gina.” And he says “Gina, no wait, Gina Canales?” And I say “Uhhhh yeah, actually.” So he actually KNOWS Gina! And her dad was his first boss and then he ended up being Gina’s boss. How random is THAT! So we called Gina on the phone and we are going to go visit her together. So random!

We had pizza while we were in Tegucigalpa getting our ID cards. It was probably the most amazing thing I have ever tasted in my life. Other than a freezing cold beer after being outside in the heat all day. And there wasn’t a bean to be seen anywhere in that place. It was amazing.

OMG the most exciting thing ever. My friend lives at a house that has a SWEET restaurant and they have…. Wait for it…. KARAOKE!!!!! It is terribly bad karaoke and all of the music sounds like it is being played from a kids play keyboard, but it is soooooo exciting. I am not counting on having it in my permanent site, but man that was exciting. We karaoked it up the other day. I sang: Eye of the Tiger, Fat Bottom Girls, Obladi Oblada, Dancing Queen, Big Yellow Taxi, and Love Shack. I looked for Toxic, but sadly they didn’t have it. Too bad, I would have liked to sing Brittany.

So this week we have been constructing tanks with concrete. I think the idea is basically for us to learn how to deal with concrete and the logistics of making a tank for water. However, it was kind of weird because we were basically building circular water tanks for4 families who don’t have running water. So basically they are going to haul water to the tanks (which they already to in a rain barrel). But, I guess the good thing is that it can be drained easily so that it can be cleaned, which is rather necessary when the mosquitoes start getting bad. The nice thing, is that we are building them for the same families that didn’t have adequate stoves, so that was really lovely. Now, they will at least have a proper storage tank for water.

On the flip side, this is the same house that knocked myself out so many times. This time, we were in the back patio, but there are 6, count them 6, clotheslines (I took a picture with each of them so you can see) that stop right at about my forehead and/or neck. Lovely. Whostino kept clotheslining (literally) himself and would say “THIS IS NOT A SAFE WORKING ENVIRONMENT!!!” I thought it was funny because I learned my lesson in this house and just kind of walk around in a constant ducking position. But, I relaxed a bit today and took myself out in the doorway full stride. I knocked myself back about 3 feet and even got an “Ooooooo!!!” from a bunch of Honduran men. I kind of walked sideways a bit until I could sit down and it turned out I actually drew blood. Brilliant. Thankfully, I didn’t find out that I actually made myself bleed until I took a shower. Otherwise I may have whimpered more. I have a huge knot on my head now. Honduras strikes again.

So part of making these tanks was learning how to throw concrete. This is not an easy task, but for some reason I ended up being the only person in my group to successfully throw concrete. I even got compliments from 3 different Honduran men (we had quite the audience today – thankfully only about 3 of them saw me clock myself in the doorway). This is no easy feat as Honduran men are very macho and not apt to give compliments to women working in a men’s field. But, apparently I have the knack. So you basically just put wet mortar onto a trowel and you literally throw it up the side of the wall. It sounds easy. It is not. But it’s really fun. Of course, I also have concrete in all of my orifices. But, you know, whatever. Peace Corps rocks.

You know what is NOT a good idea in Honduras? Giving lectures in the schools and making sure that the students all know your name and then saying “Be sure that if you see me in the street you say hello!” This seemed like a good idea. But, wait…. I’m a white woman in an entirely Honduran town (minus the other volunteers). I hear “REBECCA!!!! REBECCA!!!” every time I walk down the street now. But, rather than feel weird about it, I just have started carrying around a sharpie and a stack of my most recent headshots.

So I have decided that the Hondurans really need to just stick with their local food. Have I already told you people this? Perhaps. But food is a big part of my day so you will have to read it again. So plato tipico is really delicious: rice, beans, eggs, tortillas, salty cheese or soft cheese (depending on the availability) and the occasional avocado. They also make these delicious cheese filled corn meal cake thingys, carne asada, fried tortillas with chicken and salsa, and a bunch of other delicious food. But man, anything they make that is “international” is just terrible! Italian = sugar-ketchup-hotdog-spaghetti. Chinese = soy sauce-cinnamon-bologna-spaghetti. I live in constant fear that we will soon have an Indian day. I can only imagine what worcestershire-spam-nutmeg-lentils will taste like.

Overheard in Honduras:
Number 1: We are outside hand (well, shovel) mixing concrete. It has been 100 degrees for at least 5 or 6 consecutive days not to mention that it is consistently between 95-100 on a daily basis. And I hear the following completely deadpan exchange between my two friends Jilldozer and Banana as they are shoveling rocks:
“My host mom told me that today would be a record day for heat in Pespire.”
“Really? That’s strange.”

Number 2: We are sitting in the truck on the way to go do a charla on sanitation in an aldea (village) school. K-dog is sitting in the front with V-day who is driving. All of the sudden a herd of cattle rounds the corner in the road. V-day mutters two barely audible words:
“Traffic jam.”

Number 3: We are in the middle of a training-of-trainers workshop on HIV/AIDS. We are doing an activity where the facilitator has had us fill out slang words for “Penis” and “Arms” (and a bunch of other stuff too). He is currently holding up both papers and is trying to demonstrate that there are less slang words for arms because they are used for so many things, whereas a penis is really only used for a few things. The following ensues between the facilitator and K-dog:
“So your arms are used for a lot of things whereas a penis is only used for a few things. What kind of things is a penis used for?”
“Thinking!”

Number 4:
Today we were throwing concrete and my friend Shyguy out of the blue says:
“I wonder what it feels like to have cholera.”
Uh, me too?

Number 5: A current vol, M-cat, tells me a story about visiting her host family the other day. I feel like this is kind of like me trying to speak in Spanish, but this is a 2 year old (“D”) learning how to speak at all:

M: Voy al mercado. (I’m going to the market)
D: Quiero leche…. Y coca…. Y putas. (I want milk… and Coke… and whores)
M: Cuantas putas quieres, mi amor? (How many whores do you want, my love?)
D: mmmm…. Tres. (mmmm…. Three.)

Narrated by M-cat: I was in the other room thinking, Surely I must have heard that incorrectly. He did not just ask for three whores from the market. Doris, my other host mom, saw the look on my face and said, “He can’t say ‘pupusas,’ (delicious cheese food mentioned above) so he says ‘putas’ instead.” Oh my God, I almost died laughing.