Earthquakes, Coffee, and Ping Pong (Oh my!)

To make up for my slackerness in writing blogs for 2 weeks… HERE IS ANOTHER!!! TWO FOR ONE!!!

So I survived my first earthquake last night at 2:30 in the morning. I am very south of the epicenter which was located off of the coast of Roatan so it affected my friends up in the North more than me. Up there it was a 7.1 and destroyed a lot of buildings, bridges, etc. I have no idea what it was down here, but it woke me out of a dead sleep. I totally thought somebody was breaking in because my bed is right under the window. I was convinced somebody was jumping on my bed. But then I realized where I was and that the bed was going back and forth and not up and down. And the rumbling sound. And you could almost hear people collectively holding their breath in all of Honduras. And then the children near the house were crying and I tried to figure out who I should call at 2:30am to say “WHAT WAS THAT?!?!? EARTHQUAKE??!?!?!?!” But I wasn’t sure how far out the earthquake reached and if I would wake anybody up. In retrospect I don’t think any of my friends would have been upset to get a phone call with me on the other line saying “AAAHHHHH!!!!!!!! EARTHQUAKE!!!!!” But instead I layed in my bed thinking “What am I supposed to do? Stop, drop, and roll!… no that’s not it… Duck and cover!… no that’s not it either…. Poop your pants!… nope… Stand in the doorway? I think that’s it.” And by the time I figured it out it was over. And then I thought “Should I get up? I don’t hear anybody else up. If I hear somebody up, I will get up.” And I heard my mom talking but that was it. So I thought, “Well, my host mom will save me. She’ll knock on the door if I need to get up.” So I rolled over and went back to sleep. Then this morning I woke up and my first thought was “HOLY SHIT! THAT WAS AN EARTHQUAKE!”

So let’s talk for a moment about bananas. The bananas here look like they have been thrown down a flight of stairs, trounced upon by a dance troupe, and then drug down the road by a horse. But they taste of heaven. I mean seriously. So there are a lot of different bananas and I’m not mistaking them for plantains. I’m not THAT white. I had my favorite for the first time today. They are yellow and red colored, about 4 inches long, and are fatter than the bananas in the states. They are still in the ginormous bunches and are sold out of the front of a house. And the nice toothless lady whacks off a few with a machete for 1 Lempira each. (1 dollar = 18.9 Lempira) They have a really nice banana taste but have an aftertaste that is nutty in flavor. Wow. Amazing. Don’t even get me started on the pineapples and mangoes.

So I tell you this not to make your mouth water in jealousy, but to tell you that there was a worm in my banana today. One time there was a worm in my apple when I was a kid and I didn’t eat apples for like months (sorry mom, I traded them… usually for fruit rollups… sometimes for those little canned hot dog thingies). But here a banana trade would probably land me with more corn tortillas. No thanks. And to waste food is like, super bad. Although I also have to say briefly, because I can’t tell a story without at least 2 asides, that they still tell their children that there are starving children in Somalia. WHAT?!?! You have starving children HERE! Like, right there dude! Like, tons of them! Anyway, so I just kind of looked at the worm (it was dead), shrugged, and ate around it. So the question to all of you is… was it the banana with the nutty flavor? I hope so.

Speaking of food, let’s talk about coffee. I must say that I was horribly horribly disappointed in the coffee here. I mean, I know I used to tell all of you how amazingly uber excited I was about going to Honduras who has some of the best coffee in the world. And I love coffee about as much as…. Well…. Let’s keep it PG. I love coffee. But then, I learned, that Honduras exports all of their good coffee. To whom? The United Freeking States of Preventing Becky From Getting Good Coffee. So instead we get the ghetto coffee remnants that they scoop up off the floor with dust and…. some other gross things and they call it coffee. But then, then I moved to Sabanagrande. One day, I was having dinner and occasionally my host mom gives me coffee with dinner. And one day, the coffee was….. delicious???? I was really confused. I looked around to see if I had woken from some bad coffee dream and was in a Vegan Hippie Independently Owned Free Trade Coffee Shop in some artist colony in Berkley, but no it was the same wall I stare at every evening! I know for sure because I usually stare at the fishing rod in the corner and think “Nobody uses a fishing rod in Honduras…. There isn’t even a river NEAR here…” I was so excited I sent text messages about coffee! I thought for sure she put something IN the coffee. I mean, it was honestly the best coffee I have ever had. Ever – no exaggeration. So I couldn’t let this phenomenon go! So I ask my host mom “What’s the difference between the morning and evening coffee?” “Why?” she asks. “Because it tastes much different.” “You didn’t like the coffee?” “NO! I LOVED the coffee! It’s really good!” “Oh, that’s because the morning coffee is Indio or Maya (like the Columbia House man with the sombrero and donkey vomited into a can and called it coffee). That coffee was from Marcala and is pure coffee.” SCORE!!!!! So, I happen to have two friends placed in Marcala. Guess who is going to Marcala? Guess what everyone is getting for Christmas? Trust me. You will thank me. I have tasted the hell and the heaven of coffee and lived to tell the tale.

My friend Kisser McGee just sent me a text message saying that a semi-pro Ping Pong player stopped by her house today to ask for help in starting a team. Let that be a lesson: anything is possible in Honduras.

One more thing about food. Let’s talk about meat for a moment. Now, most of you knew me when I was a devout vegetarian. And you all know I am a vegetarian in my heart and will very very likely go back to the way of the veg. But I must say, the meat here is really, really sketchy. I was shocked when my host brother-in-law’s brother (does that make him my like, my host second cousin or something?) told me that Honduras is known for the high quality of its beef. “LIARFACE!” I yelled at him. But apparently, Hondu really DOES have high quality meat! So, the next time you enjoy a delicious steak, think of Becky, who is eating the really really sketchy meat that is NOT shipped to the States. How sketchy you ask? Well let’s just say there is no such thing as rare, medium rare, medium, or medium well meat here. You get well, or weller, or shoe leather. It’s safer that way.

So today I went to a whole bunch of aldeas to drop off school supplies with my counterpart organization. First of all, word to the wise: Always wear a sports bra when going to aldeas, get one of those Dramamine patches, and try to get a seat in the front of the truck. Anyway, so the aldeas are an amazing place. Some of them you can only get to by foot paths and a couple hours of walking. Others have “roads” and are nearby. But all of them are universally incredibly poor. Many of the children have a blonde tint or blonde streaks in their hair which is indicative of malnutrition among Hispanic children. Their houses are tiny and usually made of adobe. One of the W.V. programs is to donate cement and zync roofing to the communities to beef up their houses and battle illnesses associated with dirt floors and poor roofing. I asked my associates what happens to the zync roofing when the next big hurricane hits. They laughed and said, “Good question.” One thing at a time.

But the thing I wanted to say, was not the poverty, it’s that these people live in some of the most gorgeous areas I have seen here. It’s like the opposite of the states where the rich live in remote areas and have amazing mountain scenery and the middle class are in the burbs and the poor are in the cities. These aldeas are absolutely beautiful in the scenery and greenery. Usually their houses, though poor, are painted in bright colors (at least the doors) which lends to the beauty and you can see the brightest and most beautiful colors of flowers and trees. It’s so disconcerting to see this abject poverty coupled with absolutely striking views. And the people themselves, the ones I have met, are amazingly humble and kind. A friend told me a phrase that she heard “These people would kill their last chicken for you.” And I absolutely believe it. I also believe they would fry it in lard and serve it to you with all of their tortillas for the week. These people’s smiles would touch your heart.

The other day I went to the bathroom and there was a giant frog in the toilet (bigger than a softball). I removed him. I have since seen him in or near the toilet no less than 4 times. I named him Prince John. I think it’s apt.

So my favorite Honduran phrase is “Que Barbaridad” which pretty much literally means “How Barbaric.” In Honduras this phrase can be used for just about any negative circumstance. For example:

“My, it’s hot outside today.” “Que barbaridad!”

“My sister got robbed in a cab today.” “Que barbaridad!”

“The hardware store was out of cheese.” “Que barbaridad!”

I really think that I’m going to bring this phrase back to the states with me and try to make it stick. I think it could totally work. Try it with me:

“Somebody didn’t put a new roll of toilet paper in the bathroom!” (How barbaric!)

“They just raised the price of a movie to $10.” (How barbaric!)

“Brad and Angelina are breaking up!” (How barbaric!)

“I heard Becky ate around a worm in her banana today!” (How barbaric!)

Try it out. Let me know how it goes.

So on a more serious note, I’m actually really concerned about my health here. I have lost some weight and I’m sure I will continue to if I continue to play soccer and if I ever actually get up in the morning to go run at the soccer field. But, the reason that I became a vegetarian, well other than my lame attempt at Buddhism, my bleeding heart, and a vegetarian girlfriend (funny how that works), was because I got a letter in the mail after giving blood that my cholesterol level was like 245 or something like that. So I freaked out with my family history of heart problems. And now I’m eating meat again, although for cultural reasons, and my host families have a tendency to use a 1:3 Oil to Bean ratio and cooks everything else in lard. LARD, PEOPLE! Plus salt and sugar are used more than liberally and green vegetables are a rarity. Today every single meal that I ate included tortillas fried in lard. (When/If I visit in the states if you give me a single corn-based food product or anything fried… well… I will not be held accountable for my actions.)

So I have 6 more weeks living with a host family and this situation is not going to change because my host mom is great and I refuse to insult her by asking her to cook differently. But, I’m a few months shy of 30 and I’m 20 pounds overweight at the moment. (Don’t raise your eyebrows at me!…. Fine… 30 pounds.) I really don’t want to die of a heart attack at 45 and I’m not being melodramatic – ask my dad’s new heart valve. The PC doctors here are Honduran and I doubt will be able to help me with the dietary issues. So, I can go back to vegetarian easily here because there are plenty of beans and a lot of vegetables although not much variety (GARDEN SEEDS PEOPLE!). And I can get access to flour to make seitan and lentils which with some spices will make me set. But does anybody know if there is some kind of fasting, juice fast, or raw food type fast that I can go on for a few days or a week or two when I get into my own place that will help me clean out and kick some of this grease out of my system? One that only costs the cost of groceries? In the mean time, I’m going to have to suck it up and exercise more to try to at least keep my heart ticking well. But if you have any ideas kick me an email. I will have 5 total months on the lard/sugar/salt/oil diet soon. How barbaric.

OTHER PEOPLE’S STORIES:

Sometimes, I just have to share other people’s stories. HOLLA! They are just funny as hell sometimes. The first is the tale of a Korean in Honduras. First of all, to be Asian in Honduras is not easy as the Hondurans assume you are from China and in their diplomatic politically correct Honduran way, will inevitably call you “Chino” and will ask you if you know Kung Fu. So this guy is pretty much amazing and wins the award for the absolute most random peace corps volunteer background of all time: professional ice skater.

This is noteworthy not only because it is really awesometastic, but also because this guy, who we will call Jin in my blog, laughs at the fact that he is a Korean stereotype worthy of Honduras. He was a professional ice skater and he does actually know Kung Fu. So when the Hondurans say, “Hey Chino, do you know Kung Fu?” He hangs his head and says, “Siiiigh. Yes.”

So during FBT Jin was giving a lecture at one of the schools and whenever the kids talked to him they called him “Chino.” So, because you know, Jin is KOREAN and has a NAME he tries to teach the kids his name and the following scene worthy of Abbot and Costello occurs (Note… Yo in Spanish = I/Me. The letter J in Spanish is pronounced like Y)

“Chino!”

“Me llamo Jin (Yin)!”

2 minutes later…

“Chino!”

“No, me llamo Yin, Yin!!”

2 minutes later…

“Chino!”

(at this point Jin gives up and decides his last name is easier: Jo)

“Me llamo Jo (Yo).”

“Chino!”

“No, Yo!”

“Si, Chino!”

“No, Yo! Yo!”

“Si, Chino!”

“Yo!”

“Chino!”

“Yo!”

Chino!”

“No, Yo! YO!”

“SI! Chino!”

Meanwhile, all of the volunteers watching are cracking up. “Chino!” “Me!” “Chino!” “Me!”

The other is the tale of La Paz which was told to me by Kisser McGee. Apparently, in La Paz where the health volunteers trained, there are two seemingly boring things that together unite to create hilarity. Bolos (drunks) and Ropa Americana Stores (Goodwill Stores). These two things combined create: “BOLOWEAR!” Coming to Runways near you, with really disgusting, stinky, drunk, unshaven, dirty models bearing new T-shirt fashions including slogans such as:

“This is what cool looks like” (This guy was actually passed out in a doorway)

“D.A.R.E.”

“I hate doing this shit”

“Engage the restrictive barrier and pop it like it’s hot”

“World’s largest source of natural gas”

“Girls Gone Wild Film Crew”

And my personal favorite:

“Hit it and Quit it”

And yes folks, these were all actually sited on the La Paz bolos. It’s a special thing.

Until next time: Watch out for worms in your nanners and stay away from lard! And remember folks, in an Earthquake don’t forget to stop, drop, and roll!