Formerly Nerdalicious in Honduralicious…

So I am pretty sure that I was hit upside the head with the stupid stick the past few weeks. That or I fell out of the idiot tree and hit every dimwit branch on the way down.

It started by a simple conversation that I struck up with my coworkers. “Han visto El Negrito?” I asked in complete innocence. Suddenly the entire office stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me like I had lost my mind. So naturally, I figured that I should repeat myself. “Han visto El Negrito??” I asked while thinking everyone was really being quite peculiar. My counterpart slowly turned to me with a look of complete incredulity on his face and said in a very slow and deliberate way, “Como?” And then it hit me. “Han visto El Negrito” literally translates to “Have you seen the little black man.” However, since El Negrito is the name of the town that I was just working in, I meant it as “Have you seen El Negrito.” Of course, where I may have erred is in the “Have you seen” bit. I mean, perhaps I should have used a more sensical phrase such as “Have you been to.” In any case my entire office thought I was being completely racist and quite frankly, a bit funny in the head to ask them if I had seen the little black man. When it hit me I said:

“No! No! El Negrito, Yoro! El pueblo! El Negrito, Yoro!”

“Ohhhhhhh, no, Rebecca. El frase es ‘Conocen El Negrito?’”

Yeah. At least when they figured out what I meant they laughed about it. Loudly. For quite some time.

Then a few days later I was walking a community to get to know the layout a bit and I kept insisting that we needed to work in “pájaros.” “Necesitamos trabajar en pájaros.” Yeah. They also kept looking at me like I grew a third arm. Not sure why, I personally think that: “We need to work in birds” is completely clear. Right. Pájaros = birds. Parejas = partners. They must have been wondering what birds had to do with a water system. I was wondering why the hell they had such a problem working in pairs.

Then after I bounced off of the “bad grammar” branch, I hit the oh-so-thorny “geographically challenged gringa” branch…

So, I had promised the community La Jagua months ago that I would do their topographical survey even though they hadn’t yet done an aforo study (aforo study determines the quantity and quality of water underground). This is not customary but I was doing it as a favor to my host dad. So this week Hoda took me to meet with a community and I thought it was La Jagua again, just meeting in a different location. So I made a nice long speech about how I had promised that I would do the study even though they hadn’t done the aforo and that I was going to keep my word and that I was ready for the topo survey when they were (I had dengue during this, by the way)! Go me! Yeah… wrong community. Oops. So now I have to do TWO topo surveys without aforos. It’s like Helen Keller is designing water systems. “WAAAATEERRR” (I may burn in hell for that comment…) Oh well. They can’t get funding without the aforo anyway, so it will have to be done eventually and then I will just redo any part of the design that needs to be adjusted.

Then I knocked into a few “confusion” branches and landed on the “bad planning” branch…

Suddenly, everybody wants my assistance so I have been trying to schedule myself to do a topographical survey, a Junta de Agua training manual meeting in another community, and some time to work with my counterpart on some educational leadership manuals. Well, I ran into my host dad the other day and he asked me when I was available to go with him to see the folks in La Jagua. Well, at this point I still was confused and thought El Ocotal WAS La Jagua. So I explained to him that I had confused some dates and needed to tell the community that I had to move the dates of our topographical survey to the week of the 16^th. “Great! I will tell them! And I will come with you the first day when you walk the community.” My host dad tells me. I thought that was rather nice of him!

Then, I get a phone call from the people of La Jagua (not the real one, it was actually El Ocotal whom I THOUGHT was La Jagua) and they ask if I am ready to start the survey tomorrow! I am now confused as I am pretty sure that I just had a conversation with my host dad a week ago where he said he would call them and move the dates to the 16^th. So, I tell them that there was some kind of miscommunication (WAAAATEEERRR…) and that I needed to move the dates of the survey and I would call him with the new dates after I talked with my counterpart about their schedule.

Then, I get a phone call from my host dad who asks me if I can meet with a community the next morning. Sure, no problem! I tell him. He tells me that it is the people of El Ocotal so now I think I’m going to go meet a new community! Fun! So next morning he picks me up and we drive to… wait… I thought this was La Jagua… Oh SHIT! This was El Ocotal the whole time!?!?! And then it dawns on me that the message never got to this community that I had to move the dates and there are 5 Honduran men with machetes ready to get to work! So, I walk the community with them (while calling my counterpart and telling him I’m going to be late because apparently I can’t speak Spanish) for about 4 hours. Then, I blame Tropical Storm Ida (rather than my own stupidity) on the fact that I have to now, at the last minute, move the topographical study (fijese que…). They took it quite well, actually. Of course, the next day ended up being perfectly sunny. God damn you, Ida.

So now, the question remains, where does the real La Jagua come into play in this whole scenario? And what did I agree to do the week of the 16^th? Where am I? What the hell is going on? WAAAATEERRRR…

Then, just to add insult to injury, I fell through all the branches and landed in the “screw over your neighbor” pile of crap fertilizing the base of the tree…

So yeah, my neighbor (and my only local Honduran friend) got a computer from funds sent by her illegal immigrant husband. She bought it second hand and all of the programs were in English. So, I promised I would get her the needed software in Spanish (I have a source). And she asked me if I could put a password on the computer so her kids couldn’t play it whenever they wanted (smart lady). So I said sure, no problem! Well, I put in the password, and when we restarted the computer… it wouldn’t accept it. No matter what combination of the number 13 and the word November we used it would not work. Not English, not Spanish, nothing. I felt like the worst person in the world. So her computer was completely locked. Thankfully, after I explained to her that I needed to get a hold of Vista reinstallation disks, she called the people whom she bought the machine from and they came over with the disks and reinstalled everything. I don’t think she will be asking me for computer help again anytime soon.

Okay, so I wrote most of my blog last night, and this morning I get a jolt of my phone waking me at, well honestly, a perfectly legitimate time to call a person. So turns out it was Hoda asking me if I was ready to go with him to…. Guess where… LA JAGUA!!!! The real La Jagua!!! Not El Ocotal posing as La Jagua! So, I am of course confused because today is most definitely NOT the 16^th. But, I get up, get dressed quickly, and meet him downstairs and off we go to La Jagua where I walked the community for 3 hours. Words of wisdom – when you arrive and all the machete carrying men are wearing rain boots… you are in trouble. Thankfully, I had my boots on but I still took notice of the copious amounts of mud and cow poo in which I trod. That is going to be REALLY fun with my equipment. I will be sure not to bite my nails during this survey. Oh, and I still have NO IDEA what I signed up for the week of the 16^th…

So, I have been up to no good since the last time I wrote. The biggest thing I have accomplished was that I went to the Peace Corps Halloween party in Copan Ruinas. I believe around 120 volunteers were in attendance at this event out of the 160 volunteers in Honduras. So, it is a pretty big deal in which I perhaps drank out of a skeleton straw, imbibed too much, danced a lot, and dressed like Steve Irwin. My costume was one of those that people stopped and said (virtually every time) “And who are you…. wait… no, you did not… that’s just WRONG!!!! Oh, too soon! Too soon!… I love it, it’s awesome.”  

Anyway, we also did some of the tourism bit and went to the Macaw Bird Park. That was pretty cool as it was full of Macaws and Toucans. The best part was that the paths were completely LADEN with Spiders. I made about 6 people go ahead of me and then I crept along behind them in a perpetual ducking motion. The guy in the front, at one point, looked like he had invented a new dance and then we all screamed and ran the other way. Okay, I was the only one that screamed and ran the other way. The pictures on the blog this week are of the bird park and Halloween. Feel free to take a gander at more pictures here: Halloween in Copan Ruinas, 2009

Oh dear God, I forgot about the giant sink-spider. So, I was minding my own business sitting on my porch drinking a coke and enjoying the sunset and being all zen and one-with-the-world, and I innocently walk into the kitchen to rinse out my coke bottle. I turn on the water, start filling the bottle, glance down, and HOLY  MONKEY  JUNK!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?! I screamed bloody murder, dropped the bottle, and ran out of my apartment. There was the HUGEST SPIDER I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE (outside of a cage) sitting in my sink! It was ACTUALLY the size of a saucer! A SAUCER, PEOPLE! Thankfully, my neighbors, who thought I was being attacked, ran outside to see what was going on. And I start babbling at them “Are you afraid spiders? I no go back in there! It be huge! It be a spider! I no like spiders! I’m feared of spiders! Are you feared of the spiders? Kill it please? I no go back in! I fear spider! Please!?!?”

My neighbor on the North side of my apartment calmly picks up her 3 year old son, walks into my apartment, looks in the sink and exclaims “Wow, that’s a big spider.” And I peer around the corner (I’m still outside during all of this pacing back and forth in sheer terror) and the water is still on full blast and now the spider is trying to crawl OUT of the sink because of the rising water and I swear it’s like one of those creepy movies where there is like one leg that slowly curls over the side of the sink. And I scream again and back up against the rail. Then my other neighbor on the South side goes in for backup, although she stays a good 5 feet away from the spider and just looks back and forth between myself and the spider in amusement.

So, child-wielding-neighbor asks “Do you have a broom?” “Yes! On the porch!” I say. For some reason, she doesn’t want to go out to the porch that is literally right behind her through the door. So, she grabs a shoe. “Can I use your shoe?” she asks. “Sure, whatever!” I exclaim, though secretly wondering if she has completely lost her mind as now she has to get CLOSE to it. She then proceeds to beat the living hell out of the spider. I mean really, she had to hit it like 4 times to kill it (all the while holding her 3 year old on her hip). It was basically the size of a tarantula but not as hairy. They told me what kind it was but I can’t remember as I was too busy panicking and hyperventilating to have paid any attention.

Anyway, “Do you have a piece of paper?” she asks me. “Yeah, hold on” I say while creeping sideways into my office and rummaging around for paper. I then realize she is going to use the paper to pick up the spider, again I think she is a total nutter as that requires close proximity. Well, in the meantime she has found my dustpan and has scooped up the dead spider onto it. So I am trapped in my office as she is standing in the doorway with the dead spider. And I kid you not; she gets a little mischievous grin on her face and then proceeds TO CHASE ME WITH THE SPIDER. I again screamed like I was being murdered and she laughed and laughed (I have the highest-pitched most girlish scream ever, by the way.)

So now, I make sure the coke bottle is ALWAYS on the drain unless I am specifically doing dishes or something. I kid you not I was afraid of my sink for like a full week. I still approach it with caution along with the drains in my bathroom. NOT COOL, Honduras!

Oh, and believe it or not I got ill again. Apparently, dengue can really mess you up! So I ended up with a rather uncomfortable opportunistic infection which, for once, I will spare you the details of. Yeah, it was fun and charming enough to completely keep it to myself. That’s when you KNOW it was heinous. I got over it in a week or so, thankfully. So now I am trying really hard to eat as many vegetables as possible to help boost up my shattered immune system. Which, proves to be somewhat difficult albeit much easier here than my friend volunteering in Georgia who is on the white-food diet (potatoes, rice, cabbage). Cilantro has become my new leafy green vegetable. So I now eat A LOT of Pico de Gallo, which here is called Chismol. It’s the best I can do, really. I also stopped eating 3 cans of tuna a week after a friend gaped at me in disbelief and reminded me that canned tuna is rich in Omega 3’s AND in mercury. Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Silly gringa.

So honestly that is pretty much all I have been up to: completely confusing myself and every Honduran around me, acting like I was being murdered so my neighbor would kill my giant spider, dressing as the crocodile hunter and tackling toy alligators, and applying yet more medications. All in all, I would call that a relatively successful 2 weeks in the Peace Corps! Try not to be too jealous. I think Peace Corps may actually be driving me a bit mad. I noticed that I have been walking around in soccer shorts and wool socks lately. I also had a dream last night about the British, Severus Snape, and a giant Whaleshark, I kid you not.

So I do have a request for those of you thinking about sending me Christmas packages. I would like to request, that if you are feeling lazy, stressed out about getting your state-side friends and family gifts, and just have a general sense of malaise, that instead of sending me a package you send me the postage you would have spent on it via paypal. Why? Well, honestly, I would really like to purchase a proper bed and a toaster oven. However, if you want to send me a package I have updated my wish list! wOOt!

Well, now for the rest of my blog I am going to regale you with a multi-part photo-blog series (probably at least 1 more part) I like to call either, “Things I Love about Honduras: sarcastic or not… you decide…” or “Things I Love About Honduras: it’s the little things that amuse me.”

Well, this concludes this week’s Part 1 of the photo blog. Things to look forward to next week: the Fauxhawkmullet, Star-Crossed-Dog-Lovers, and Bags of Liquid! Stay tuned…

Well, the thing about writing a blog is that you really should write it consistently enough that people keep reading it. That wasn’t so much of a problem until recently when I started taking off all over the country all the time to do absolutely nothing worthwhile for the Peace Corps, though also discovering that I actually am hooked on diving. Which then made me wish I could just be a scuba diver forever and ever. Which then led me to rediscover (again) that I am poor and need somebody to make my student loans disappear.  Which leads me back to the fact that if I consistently wrote my blog that maybe my readership would develop to the point where some rich person would take pity on me and pay off my student loans. Does that sort of thing really happen? I think I would be better off writing to Oprah. Think Oprah would pay off my student loans? I may have better luck with Ellen Degenerous, come to think of it. I fit slightly better into that minority. Hmmm. Well. Anyway.

So, let’s talk about dengue, shall we? I mean, what would a blog from me be without at least some reference to a strange illness. So, it seems that I may or may not have dengue fever. How do I know (or not know, as it seems)? Well, it started when I got back from my birthday vacation extravaganza (how’s that for foreshadowing). I suddenly didn’t feel so hot and so I took a nap. For 4 days.

The first 24 hours my fever was pretty high and it felt like all of my bones were conspiring to implode. After that I got a mild fever that just hasn’t gone away for 6 days now. It’s just enough to make me annoyed, very tired, and have a complete lack of appetite. So I went to the doctor on day 4 and he pretty much told me I had all the symptoms of classic dengue: fever, rash (oh yeah, I have a rash too), cold sweats, no hunger, extreme tired, headache behind the eyes, and so on. He, myself, and the PC medical officers were all convinced I had classic dengue. So, he sent me to the lab next door to take blood to check on my white blood cells because apparently if they were low I would then definitely have dengue. But, the lab closes here at 11am. Why? Because why would you want to work past the hour when sick people drag out of bed? Then you would have to like, take blood and urine samples. Gross!

So I went back the next morning, got my blood and urine samples taken. Well, I GAVE the urine sample… in a baby food jar incidentally and labeled with duct tape and a sharpie. Pretty classy. It’s nothing like urine samples in the states where you pee into a fancy clinical cup that takes the temperature and Ph on contact and you have to follow like a million instructions for sanitation and to keep the sample clean. Here it’s just: “Here’s your baby food jar (as he blows out the dust). You lucky devil, you get mashed peaches! The toilet is over there. Watch out for the giant Roach, Jorge. There probably isn’t any toilet paper so don’t spill any. And don’t count on there being any soap either… Done? Okay. Let me put some duct tape on that and sharpie in your name. What’s your name?” “Rebecca Williams.” “Okay, Rebeca Wilian. Got it.”

Anyway, so I gave my sample, got my blood drawn (all without the doctor wearing gloves) and then I promptly went back to bed. But I didn’t get back up by 11am to get the results, so on day 6, today, I got my results back. Aaaaand…… white blood cells are normal. Hmmm. The doctor was baffled and says I am displaying all the symptoms of dengue but it must be a mysterious virus. I must admit, it’s a bit disconcerting when your doctor looks at your lab results with complete befuddlement and then claims that you have a “mysterious virus” and says “come back at the same time tomorrow” so he can check your vital signs for the 3^rd day in a row.  But, the good news is that I am getting farther along in Creepy Honduran Illness Bingo. I’m totally going to kick my training group’s ass:

I just need a fungus or a dog bite and I will TOTALLY win the pool…

So, I woke up this morning and the glass lid to my only pot was shattered. I have no idea how such a thing occurred, but I am very sad because now nothing will cook in my pot (I am eating again, just to update you from a few paragraphs ago). So, I figured I was relegated to nothing but my scrawny little frying pan, but I decided to go ahead and try to make noodles with my lidless pot anyway. So, I was cooking a lovely sauce of random stuff that I had in my apartment (garlic, green beans, onion, sofrito tomato sauce, tomatoes, and canned tuna… surprisingly delicious) and was using my only ceramic bowl as a lid (very brave – I give this last bowl like 2 weeks left of life) to keep the sauce hot while I was attempting to lidlessly boil water on a 110 volt hot plate. So, I decided that two bubbles = boiling and dumped in some pasta and then glared at the pot daring it to cook my dinner. And then, Lily, being a cute curious little puppy, decided to benignly sniff the plug. Unfortunately, this act pushed the plug (which was an extension cord) over the edge and it exploded in a violent shower of sparks and Lily about hit the ceiling and ran into the living room in complete astonishment. In all fairness to Lily, I had suspected this may happen eventually as every time I used both burners on my hot plate my apartment smelled like burning plastic and the extension cord got all hot and melty. So this was not Lily’s fault.

So then, I had a frying pan full of sauce covered with a ceramic plate, and a pot of uncooked pasta sitting in two-bubble-semi-boiling water both sitting on a hot plate that was attached to an exploded plug. Hmmmm. What to do. Well, the hardware store was closed so there was no buying another plug. So what does a good PC volunteer do but put the hot plate right on the floor, which handily I had just bleached (after considering duct taping the cord back together and then deciding that this would surely lead to electrocution). And then I had the brilliant idea to put the frying pan ON TOP of the lidless pot. So I managed to bring the water to a full boil with my frying pan of sauce sitting on top (thus keeping it warm) and I extricated the ceramic bowl in hopes that it would not shatter directly into my sauce. All the while Lily barked at me from the living room in complete confusion as to why in the hell I wanted to be anywhere near an exploding hot plate. Or maybe she was confused as to why I was cooking dinner on the floor.

Now I have to buy a new extension cord (maybe a slightly better one this time) AND a pot with a lid. Sadly though, I have to travel at the end of the month so I can’t really afford a pot at the moment. So, I shall continue to boil water in my pot with the frying pan as a lid for a few more weeks all the while thinking of the full set of pots and pans, toaster oven, microwave, and coffee pot sitting in my brother’s attic. Sigh. My life is very glamorous. Oh well, at least I don’t have to cook with fire.

Sometimes Honduras is really just too adorable for words. So, I will have to explain since soccer really isn’t that big of a deal in the United States. Here, it is like…. Life. And I don’t mean that in the “football season is my life and I have all the statistics memorized” or “I love skating so much I sit on my ass and play Tony Hawk on Xbox all day long.” It’s more like… without soccer I’m pretty sure everyone would just lay down and die. Men and women alike. All of Central America. They would just give up the ghost.

Anyhoo, so the past few months have been the qualifying games for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Long story short, last night Honduras played El Salvador and the US played Costa Rica. In order for Honduras to qualify for the world cup they had to beat El Salvador and the US had to beat or tie Costa Rica. And, what happened? Honduras beat El Salvador 1-0 and the US tied with Costa Rica 2-2 in the final moments of the game, thus sending Honduras to the World Cup for the first time in 24 years, I believe.

And the country went completely nuts. I didn’t see NEARLY this level of excitement during the coup. During the coup nobody really changed their routine at all. Last night however, my entire town was out in the streets lighting fireworks, singing, dancing, and there was even an impromptu motorcade with the 10 cars in town filled to the brim with sweaty shirtless men waving their jerseys around in the air while jumping up and down in the back of the trucks so it looked like they were all sporting super ghetto-style hydraulics. The motorcade just went down street by street (for all of the like, 10 streets here) and by the time they came all the way back around they were so full of people the cars would scrape the ground as they bounced along.

And of course, Hoda had projected the game on the side of the Catholic Church (one would assume to give a spiritual advantage to the team) and had hired a DJ so there was music blaring in the streets. It was insane. And left and right people were thanking ME for the US qualifying Honduras by tying Costa Rica. Can you believe that? I mean hell, its way nicer than people asking me why the US cancelled Honduran Visas to the states. The whole town was patting me on the back. I guess they forgot we just beat them last week which is why they HAD to beat El Salvador. That’s what I love about Honduras. They crack me up.

The celebration was so much fun. And then the president took over all of the TV stations to congratulate the team and then cancelled school and work for today across the country. HAHAHA! Can you believe that!? I mean can you imagine Obama cancelling school and work because of the results of the Super Bowl or something? Crazy, man. So then the DJ was trying to get people to dance and everyone started shouting “GRINGA! GRINGA! BAILE! BAILE!!! GRINGA!!!” And I was laughing along with them like “”WOOHOO!!! YAY!!! BAILE!!! BAILE!!!” until I realized…. GRINGA?!?! THAT’S ME!!! And I tried to run away but they grabbed me and made me dance the punta which I dance very very very badly. So badly that I ignore the squiggly red lines under the extra two “very’s” from Word telling me I am repetitive. I really only excel at dancing when club crowds are so thick nobody can see me moving. Plus, I had run outside wearing flip flops and without a belt on and my pants were falling down (lost a bit of weight on the dengue/mystery virus diet). Well, one way to integrate into the community is to be forced to dance. Of course, the entire crowd formed a circle around me and the man dancing with me and proceeded to shout and cheer the whole time I was attempting to shake my ass and hips in unison (which, since I dance like a middle-aged white man probably included an arm shimmy and biting my lip. For evidence see picture of me dancing a couple of years ago). And I look up and there is my host family taking pictures with their cell phones. Oh dear god. At least this country isn’t quite advanced enough for me to end up on YouTube dancing the Punta. It would probably be an instant internet-wide phenomenon and would solidify my position as single-forever along with the light-saber kid and the fat dude dancing to Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies.”

So yeah, I’m honestly quite excited to be living in Honduras during the World Cup. Even if they get eliminated right away it will be so fun to see how excited the town is.

Well, apparently I am really good with children, cats, monkeys, and college professors but terrible with dogs. Puppies seem to bring out a side of me that I don’t like so much. Well, at least having a puppy without a yard. Lily is now going to be our office dog. Which, honestly, I think is going to make her much happier because my office has a big yard for her and lots of people for her to socialize with. And I get the benefit of being able to see her every day, I can walk her or go running with her, but I don’t have to live with a hound dog that wants nothing but to be outside. So if you got me stuff for Lily, refrain from sending it (or send it anyway as I will still be with her every day). Call me a jerk if you will, but I would rather we both be happy than both be miserable (she says defensively).

So, the very quick update about work is that my coworkers are going through an audit that they were preparing for for 2 weeks and then is taking 2 weeks to complete. So in the mean time I’m trying to design a water system for the community that I did a survey for, and I started working with 2 other volunteers to develop a new training manual for water boards. I have two more surveys scheduled, one system to finish designing, and a basketball court/soccer field improvement plan that I surveyed and have to figure out how to use the information to give estimates on concrete. So basically I have a lot to do yet nothing to do.

So, let’s move on to the best subject of all. The week and a half I spent in Utila. Yes, I just wrote about Utila but I went back with my training group and probably had the best two weeks of my entire life including the best 30^th birthday one could possibly have. Am I exaggerating? Trust me when I tell you no. By the way, I’m going to be writing about diving for awhile so go to the potty, get a beer, smoke a cigarette, and brace yourself. Oh, and all the pictures are from the last trip because I was too busy being content to take any this time. And some are stolen from other PC volunteers and some are credit to Dom the Dive Master.

First of all, I find diving to be my favorite thing in the whole world to the point where I am now convinced that I will do the dive master certification training at the end of my Peace Corps service. I just absolutely love it. It’s so peaceful and freeing and just so much fun. I have seriously considered the fact that I joined PC to figure out what I wanted to do when I grew up (well, what I wanted to specialize in) and I seriously think one of the reasons I joined PC (in the existential meaning of the word “reason”) was to discover diving. And now I am trying to figure out how to incorporate diving into what I want to study for graduate school. So now I know a few very key things about my graduate school interests:

1. I want to do environmental work because I personally find the need to treat our planet well as the most important thing there is. This is our Easter Island, after all (Collapse? Anyone? Jarryd Diamond? No?).
2. I find agricultural work to be interesting and incredibly important to environmental work as let’s face it, people cannot change until they are fed. Maslows Hierarchy of Needs. Boom.
3. I really love diving as much as environmental work so it makes logical sense to study environmentalism in conjunction with reef ecosystems. And the agricultural tie in works as is evidenced by the problems in Honduras with agricultural runoff affecting reefs as far away as Belize.

Therefore, I am wondering how likely it is to pursue a graduate education that specializes in studying the effects of agricultural runoff on reef populations and what can be done about it. Considering topics such as nutrient loading, reef bleaching, the affects of pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers on reef ecosystems, etc.  Sounds a bit like marine biology but I also don’t want yet another worthless degree (in all fairness I could work for a corporation with the Instructional Systems Design degree. Not so worthless but I would have to sell my soul. Maybe I should sell my soul for a few years and pay off my student loans…more like LEASING my soul…). So, I am now doing research as to the types of programs out there.

But let’s get back to the fun stuff. So, I was really excited that so many people remembered me from the last time I was diving in Utila. That speaks a lot to the staff that works at the dive center that I have come to be loyal to. And I got to know a few more people while I was there too. So the cast of characters this time changed a bit. Actually, the one thing that breaks my heart thinking about going back to Utila in 20 months to do the Dive Masters is that all of the staff will have changed out by then as the Dive Master Trainees leave and the Dive Masters and Instructors slowly move off to other places. But, I suppose that is the ebb and flow of life, anyway. It is sad though, I really like these people and it’s hard to imagine I will never see them again. Besides, they have taught me a whole new set of vocabulary with words such as “manky,” “bollocks (which can also be bollocking, bollocked, etc),” “rank (which I of course knew before but don’t use nearly enough), and so on.

So here is how the trip went down. First, my neighbor randomly asked me to help him survey the soccer field so that they could start planning to put a new basketball court along side of it. Turns out my neighbor is brothers with the current mayor who is cousins with Hoda who is running for mayor with the opposite party. Small town. Anyway, so we are at the field surveying when the mayor’s son, who was helping us, takes a phone call and it turns out that Mel Zalaya has snuck back into Honduras and was camping out at the Brazilian Embassy. So I immediately freak out because this likely meant I would never ever be able to leave Sabanagrande ever again (very rational) and thus would not be able to go back to Utila. So, I spent a few days lamenting my luck while listening to news reports of the current Honduran government instituting curfews, cutting power to the Brazilian Embassy (though apparently still sending food over… I picture Zalaya sitting on a cot munching on a ham sandwich while completely parched from lack of water due to the cut off electricity), and protesting like crazy. Great.

Well, thankfully our country director was quite nice about it and let us go anyway so I ended up leaving a couple of days early, before she changed her mind or the shit hit the fan, and went to visit Mcat (and do some work). For those of you who follow my Facebook status updates, that was when I had a not-so-friendly reminder that tequila is the devil. After two days with Mcat I finally went up to Utila with very little trouble other than some seasickness on the ferry. It was like being shaken up in a barrel full of monkeys for an hour and then thrown out onto the ground.

When I got to Utila I happened to arrive at the same time as a weekly event called the Booze Cruise. Which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It’s a sunset hour cruise around the bay with cheap drinks aboard one of the boats. So, the guy that rounded me up at the dock was nice enough to call the boat captain and have him swing over to the dock that I was at and pick me up. So I tore off my sneakers, rolled up my pants, hopped on the boat, and bought a beer while grinning from ear to ear to be back to my favorite part of Honduras during the most beautiful part of day.

Then, I spotted one of the people I had met on the previous trip, Caroline from Britain, and I went up to the front of the boat to say hello. Along with her was a girl named Vanessa who is from Canada and came down to hang out with her friend Marlo for several months, another person I knew from my last trip. So I pretty much chilled and chatted with Caroline and Vanessa who then invited me to a staff party after the booze cruise. The staff party was a blast and the most memorable part was when one of the Dive Master Trainees fell over whilst sitting down and then proceeded to scold people who brought her water. That’s when I knew I felt like I was at home, because I’m pretty sure that exact same scenario would have played out with any one of my friends state-side. I do run with a classy lot.

So, this time I took the Advanced Open Water course along with my friend Sweet Jen. A lovely woman named Lauren, from California, was our instructor and apparently is also the assistant-manager. She was a very good teacher, explained things very thoroughly, and was incredibly patient. Assisting Lauren was Nathan, a DMT from Australia who this time around was sporting a rather adorable Mohawk. I love this guy because he is such a child in the water. There were several times that Lauren had to grab his attention during the Advanced class because Nathan had wandered off or was doing flips instead of paying attention. One time he actually climbed up on our spare tank (at the 18 meter safety stop) and rode it like a horse. He cracked me up because it was so clear that he just enjoys every moment of life. And equally as amusing was watching patient Lauren corral him back to the activity at hand.

So the Advanced Course consisted of 6 specific training dives and 1 fun dive. The dives that were part of the training included: a deep dive to 40 meters (130 feet), fish/coral identification dive, a wreck dive, a night dive, buoyancy training, and navigation training. Each dive was soooo much fun. The fish/coral ID dive we basically learned the different types of common corals and how to figure out what they were along with some of the common fish in Utila. That dive was cool because after that I always could figure out what I was looking at and I would think to myself “Oh look, that’s finger coral!”Unfortunately this does not speak to my intelligence too much since all of the coral looks exactly like its name. “What’s that coral right there that looks like a maze?” “Ummm… that would be Maze Coral.” “Oh.” One time I was going through a swim-through and brushed up against some coral that burned like crazy and thought “and that must be fire coral.” Note to self: stay away from fire coral.

The deep dive was cool because of the change in colors. You lose red that far down so Lauren brought along a light that she could use to show us the actual colors of things. Plus you learn how different it is to breathe that deep (you have to pull harder to breathe because of the pressure differentials working on your body and on the air in your tank).

I was actually afraid of the wreck dive because for some reason I have always found underwater wrecks to be frightening. Turns out though, that it was really super cool and I wasn’t afraid at all. For Advanced you can only go through certain parts of the wreck so we were never in an enclosed space. But it was really cool to see the marine life take over the wreck and now I want to be sure to get a specialization in wreck diving so one day I can actually go into one.

The navigation dive was pretty self explanatory. We learned how to use the compass along with kick cycles to navigate a path, as well as how to use the landscape and the coral to figure out where we are.

The night dive was so awesome. Everything is so different at night. I was really nervous when I got in the water and realize that it was really…. well… dark. But we learned how to communicate with our lights rather than hand signals and I actually saw a spotted lobster, which apparently is quite rare. I also saw a HUGE king crab that was chilling with the lobster, probably having a debate about the necessity of crustacean hegemony over neighboring squid populations, or something. At least that’s what I imagine they were discussing. My favorite though was the little red eyes you could see everywhere from the shrimps who looked annoyed and put-upon even in the dark. “GET AWAY, YOU STOOPID UH-MERI-CUN!” Cute little guys.

Oh and on this dive I lost my buddy and FREAKED out. There were only 4 of us in my group so I didn’t stick REALLY close to my buddy (which is annoying when they are right on top of you anyway) and just glanced backwards occasionally to count the two lights that should have been behind me (and Lauren in front). Well, we rounded a corner of the reef wall and I turn around and there are TONS of lights! One of the other groups had caught up with us and I was like “AAAACK!!!! WHICH ONE IS MY BUDDY!” And of course, they were all wearing black wet suits with blue fins. I was like CRAP!!! So I turn around and spot Lauren floating there just watching me and I am looking all around like a nutter trying to spot Jen. I could not find her for like 20 seconds and then it turns out she was above me. Right. Crisis averted. Carry on.

The buoyancy dive was one of my favorites just because you really got to play underwater. So, buoyancy is basically the ability to control your breathing so that you move up when you breathe in, down when you breathe out, and you basically stay neutral when breathing in and out normally. It’s pretty easy once you figure it out but really freaking hard for a new diver (experienced divers are so good I swear you can’t even see HOW they are moving. They just glide along. I still am a klutz even under water). So, in this course we had to run through a bunch of drills to improve our buoyancy. On one of the drills, they put down 5 pound weights standing on end and we had to swim up to each weight and knock it down with our regulator. This means that you have to control your breathing so that you are merely inches above the sea floor, you have to swim without kicking up silt, and you have to control your speed when approaching the weights. And if you screw up and hit the bottom you have to get off of the bottom without disturbing the sand (by breathing in).

So, the first time I do this I approach the weight, breathe out, and slam face first directly into the weight so hard that I knocked my regulator out and swallowed a bunch of water and sand. And, of course, I started cracking up which didn’t help any. So I shoved my regulator back in my mouth, without moving any other part of my body as to not make more silt mess than necessary and took in a deep breath to raise up over the weights. Then, I approached the next weight, and slammed into the ocean floor face first again. I think I did this about 7,000 times before I finally figured it out and was able to knock over the damn weights without causing myself bodily injury. I actually hit the first weight so hard that I thought later that I had given myself a bloody nose. That turned out to just be sinus problems, so no worries. I refused to look at Lauren or Nathan the whole time because I am pretty sure they were gawking in disbelief at my total lack of finesse. Those of you who know me probably can picture with no problem my face smooshed into a 5 pound weight and my mouth full of sand with my regulator floating behind me. That would be something to replay in slow-mo, that’s for sure. And keep in mind that everything is very slow underwater so it was just completely ridiculous how slowly I slammed into the ocean floor. My eyes were completely wide and like OH SHIT! For easily 10 seconds before I hit the weight with my face: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! BOOM!!!!! GURGLE, SPLUTTER, COUGH! as little sea creatures run for cover. Meanwhile, Jen goes after me and glides up to the weight and knocks it over with no problem like a damn mermaid.

I was vindicated later (much later, mind you) when we had to go through hoops by only controlling our air and our kick strokes. Now don’t get me wrong, the first several times I’m pretty sure they were moving the hoop so that I made through it with some semblance of dignity. But after a few minutes I finally figured things out and then I could go through the hoops upside down and backwards. And when Jen tried it she just floated away upside down. Which was probably about as amusing as my face in the sand like an ostrich. Whatever, I needed some good exfoliation, anyway.

So that was the Advanced Course. Then, I decided that I wanted to stay for my birthday because let’s face it, I didn’t want to leave Utila and scuba diving on your birthday is WAY better than whatever I would have been doing in Sabanagrande. And a very sweet family member gifted me 6 more dives. SWEET. The quick rundown of these dives were that I saw a 7 foot nurse shark chilling out under a ledge, did two drift dives where you go with the current and then the boat comes and picks you up where you pop up, saw a shrimp cleaning a trumpet fish, went face first super-man style over a reef wall (THAT was fun), dove an unmarked site that the captain of the boat took us to, saw a school of dolphin jumping out alongside the boat (they didn’t want to swim with us this time, unfortunately) and on my birthday dove a little tugboat wreck and got caught in a school of pretty blue fish that we all just chilled out and watched circle all around us.

My 6 fun dives were mainly with Katja and Marlo as DMs. Katja is a very tiny girl from Denmark, I believe. She was like diving with a little underwater sprite. She just kind of glided along in the water with zero effort and whenever she saw something worth pointing out she would get a big grin and would clap her hands together underwater in glee. It was so damn adorable that she probably could have shown me a rusty can and I would have been like “WOW! That’s so COOL!” Marlo was also so much fun to dive with because she gives your really fun ideas of ways to see the reefs. For example, at one point I just hung upside down and pretended the ocean floor was a ceiling (per her suggestion) totally cracked me up. She also taught me to just chill out and sit and watch one piece of coral for a long time. If you float there long enough you can see all of the little critters that you scared away at first. My favorite of these was a little baby cow fish who just looks so completely dopey and swam around in little circles.

Then, just when I thought it was all over, a friend of mine bought me one more dive. It was such a sweet thing to do and I was beyond excited because I was going to dive with just Marlo and Caroline, my two favorites on the island, on this dive. So this day was absolutely gorgeous and on the first dive (the boats always do two dives) I snorkeled around the boat and chased angel fish (which is one of my favorite past times). The dive itself was one to remember for a lifetime. My best dive yet. So on this dive Marlo wanted to show me all kinds of things that the DMTs and DMs do when they are messing around underwater. At one point we took off our fins, stood on the sand, and played around with running under water. The funnest thing to do is act like you are running and then take in a big breath and you float up like a superhero taking off. We did lots of flips and tornadoes, and then took off our BCD’s and rode them Nathan-style like horses. And the funnest was “captain diving.” This was named after the captains of the boats at the dive shop who dive without BCDs (the BCD is a sort of inflatable jacket that you wear that holds your tank and all your tubes and stuff). So one person dove without a BCD and just held the tank under her arm. And at one point they let me take off my BCD and pass it off and dive with just holding the tank. THAT was so much fun. I loved diving without the BCD it was really kind of trippy. Oh what a fun day that was. Best dive ever.

But, let me go backwards to my actual birthday. I had told a couple of people that it was my 30^th birthday, and so when I got back from diving they had decorated the dock with balloons and a Feliz Cumpleaños sign. I was putting away my equipment and didn’t even notice until it was pointed out to me and then I think I turned bright red. It was so damn sweet. And as soon as I stepped off the boat they put a beer in my hand. Then, just to be even more amazing, they took me to one of the houses of the DMs and they had made me cupcakes and had pizza. It was absolutely amazing. So, I haven’t introduced many people on the island but the ones responsible for this included Marlo (who I think was responsible for getting me toasted before going to the house), Vanessa who made the delicious chocolate cupcakes laden with caramel frosting (Marlo and Vanessa did the decorating of the dock too), Sarah the country-music lover who made me laugh underwater on my last dive and had me over to her house, Lauren my instructor for Advanced, Caroline who I believe was responsible for getting people to create all of these shenanigans, and several other people from the dive shop who stopped in now and again. Oh, and the owner of the shop gave me a T-shirt for my birthday too. I just can’t tell you how amazing that day was.

And when I wasn’t diving I was usually snorkeling around the dive centers where I saw a big trunk fish that I followed around forever, a really big barracuda, 3 seahorses that I literally could sit and watch for hours until the sun started to go down and I would get cold, and a little group of baby squid. They were funny. I followed them around for quite some time and then a big fish swam by and startled them and they all inked. I then choked on the water that I sucked into my snorkel from laughing. I also have a tendency to follow around angel fish because they are really pretty and super funny acting in the water. Especially when they realize you are following them. They keep glancing up at you like WHAT?!?! And if you can catch them above you they will try to eat your bubbles which always makes me think of Finding Nemo (BUBBLES!).

Anyway, so it was an amazing adventure on Utila Island. I know I have not done real justice to how much fun I had by writing it in my blog. There was too much stuff I had to leave out that would be uninteresting to the masses. Suffice it to say that it would not really have been humanly possible to have more fun than I did between the diving, the snorkeling, the sunsets, the delicious food, the rumonades (mmmmmm rum and lemonade), the amazing birthday, the awesome people at the dive shop, and the evenings of Animal Planet and instant coffee (after all, sleeping would have wasted SERIOUS time. Not even kidding. I can sleep in Sabanagrande. And do. Frequently). I literally think those two weeks were probably the most content I have ever been in my life. If the 30’s are anywhere near as good as my 30^th birthday, I will be one lucky woman.

So, just when I thought I had finished my blog I had an adventure with Hoda. I had a meeting tonight with a community to plan a topographical study in November. And, I should have thought about the fact that there is no going anywhere with Hoda that doesn’t become an adventure. So, he tells me he is going to pick me up at my apartment at 5:30. No problem. 5:25 comes around a knock at my door. There is a diminutive Honduran lady who takes one look at me and says, “Ah, you must be Rebecca.” “Ummmm, are you implying that I am a tall, chubby, white woman who sticks out in a Honduran town? Okay, yes. I’m Rebecca.” So I throw on some boots (finally learned to wear boots when going to the communities. Now I just need to remember to bring toilet paper, too) and follow little lady down like 5 streets (halfway to Hoda’s house) and round a corner and there is Hoda’s truck. Filled with Hondurans sporting blue “Vote for Pepe Lobo” t-shirts. Oh, shit. And of course, what am I wearing? Well, it used to be a purple polo shirt but after months of hand scrubbing it is now a rather scruffy blue-looking polo shirt. Way to keep out of the politics of town there, Rebecca. So I squeeze into the back of the truck and count, not even kidding you, 15 people crammed into the back of this little 4 cylinder truck. And of course, we stopped and picked up 3 more people on the way. And there were 3 people up front. 21 people in a 4 cylinder flat bed truck. Amazing. Now THAT is carpooling. I swear as soon as I get within 10 yards of Hoda the theme to Benny Hill starts playing.

Okay, I need to finish this blog and move on with my life. I’m going to go ahead and start the next one so that I have one to post next week too. It will probably be a photo blog of me attempting to cook on my floor.

So, until then, I encourage you to work the word “manky” into casual conversation, always have a spare extension cord in case yours explodes in a flurry of sparks, and remember that if you ever need deep exfoliation, just slam your face into the ocean floor a few times. Come diving with me. But not until I have more vacation days.

Beck

Well hello faithful reader! I’m assuming I’m down to just the one. You lucky dawg.

To start, I would like to discuss taxi drivers. Now, I know most of you have been to New York or somewhere similar that had absolutely reckless and insane taxi drivers, so stories about crazy taxi drivers are not that interesting. Especially considering that most of the taxi drivers in the states are from other countries, anyway. But the life threatening driving tactics of the taxi driver is not really what interests me. No, what interests me is that after spending 6 months in this country I have come to identify with my taxi driver and tend to support his inane decisions regardless of their questionability.

Let me explain. First of all, I find myself rooting for my taxi driver when it is apparent that they are not, in fact, going to rob me. I mean hell, that is already a good start to a taxi trip! I can usually tell because I will recognize the route we are on. The only time that the route was deviated, the taxi driver saw me eyeing the strange streets suspiciously, and informed me that he was going around the normal way because there was a political demonstration. Turned out he was telling the truth because on this day it took this poor man at least 45 minutes to get me to my destination including at least 10 3-point turns, 100 yards of backwards driving, 15 curses, 3 near accidents, 1,000+ protesters, and a tear or two. The tear came towards the end of the trip when we were caught on one street between the two opposing sides of the protest and we both knew that him getting me across those streets to the Peace Corps office just 6 blocks away was never ever going to happen. At this point I chose to thank him, paid him (he charged me slightly less), and I hauled ass running through the two parades all the while thanking god that I didn’t choose to wear red or blue that day (the two opposing colors). And then I speed-walked to the PC office all the while hoping that I didn’t get jumped on the way or yelled at by my country director and security officer for unknowingly arriving in the middle of a protest. Oops.

But, I digress. So, what I have come to learn about the taxi drivers that do not rob me, is that they are really just trying to make a living in this crazy country where it is much easier to just turn to a life of crime. In all seriousness, there is a 90% chance that you WILL NOT get caught for a crime here. So, first of all, I support my local taxista because he is working and not robbing (at least when I am in his car). Secondly, it is amazing how well they know the city. I can say “I want to go to the coffee shop. The little one by the stream.” And no problem, they cross, cut through, roundabout, and swerve their way through the city to my exact location. And thirdly, they really want to get me to my destination quickly so that they can get more people in and out of their car. And really, I don’t want to be in their cologne-smelling, reggaeton-playing, “jesus is my homeboy,” piece-of-crap car any more than I have to anyway, so it works out well for both of us. And lastly, they usually don’t try to rip me off. I usually get quoted the Honduran price once they learn I can speak Spanish and if I know they are ripping me off I don’t get in their taxi. Simple as that.

So I suddenly realized that I really support my local taxista as evidenced by my feelings towards other drivers:

• I’m sorry sir, but we are driving on the sidewalk here. I don’t really give a damn if you are trying to turn right in the right lane. We were here first and we very kindly tooted our horn for you to move. So don’t you get all uppity with us just because YOU didn’t think to drive on the sidewalk first!
• What? You have never seen anyone parked in the middle of the intersection on a red light? Don’t blame us! Blame that long line of idiots in front of us blocking the street!
• I’m sorry, but I’m turning around in the middle of the street here. If you were smart you would do the same thing as clearly the traffic isn’t moving. So get the hell out of my way or I will slam right into you.
• So what if this is a parking lot? If you didn’t want us to drive through it you shouldn’t have made an exit on the other side.
• Don’t glare at me for using the 3 inch space you left between you and the car in front of you to squeeze through. If you didn’t want me to edge in you shouldn’t have left ANY space.
• Yes, we realize that this is a one way street going in the other direction, but did you SEE that line of cars? Hell no. Get out of our way.
• Do you see that we are driving backwards here? You should, we have our break lights on AND we are honking the horn. Perhaps YOU should look where you are going. If you were paying attention you would have seen we were driving backwards BEFORE you turned onto this street. This is YOUR fault, my friend.

The NERVE of these people acting like my taxista is at fault.

So I am telling stories slightly out of order because it’s my blog and I can do whatever I want. So, I shall tell you that after I got back from diving I ended getting super sick again. Sadly, I was supposed to go do some work in another town and then pick up Lily, my new puppy, but ended up having to go to the capital after reconnect. Reconnect was a 4 day workshop type event where we basically met all of the other water/sanitation and health volunteers from the last group and we also had a bunch of sessions on things like building latrines. Oh, and we had an awesome 70’s party that I had to drink nothing but water at. I won’t spend much time talking about reconnect because I honestly spent most of that time in bed sleeping or in the bathroom…. bathrooming, if you will. Which, as an aside, ended up being most unfortunate as the power went out and the toilets wouldn’t flush. Just what you need is an intestinal bacterium with a non-flushing toilet. I advised my roommate to just use someone else’s toilet and maybe never enter our bathroom until the power came back on. It was for the best. She was wise to follow my advice. This is why we have remained friends.

So anyhoo, I ended up having to go to the doctor in the capital because I was quite ill. This time was just as much fun as the first time but with some added grossness which I shall impart. So, she sent me for a poo test which ended showing that I had a severe intestinal bacterial infection (she used the word severe, not me… but I will tell you that it was…. severe indeed), and a minor parasite that I had to have picked up within the past few weeks. Which means I either got it on my last survey whilst falling down mountains, in Utila (which I highly doubt as I was not around soil), or while building latrines the first day of reconnect. The lurvely thing about this particular parasite, for those interested in grossness, is that it’s larvae burned through my skin (usually they go through the feet but since I am usually a shoe-wearing tree hugging hippie I suspect it was from the soil from the latrine project that I had my hands all in when mixing concrete), then took a jaunt through my circulatory system, passed through my heart, then through my lungs, and eventually reached maturity in my intestines. Isn’t that lovely?

I named this parasite Freb. I don’t know why, I just feel like he’s a Freb. So Freb is not actually something somewhat disgusting like an amoeba, it’s something REALLY disgusting like a worm. So yeah. I’m grossed out by myself. Thankfully, I took a de-wormer (I suppose anti-parasite is nicer but let’s be honest, it was a de-wormer) and I take another one in 7 days to be sure it’s dead. I swear after I took it my abdomen made funny sounds and felt all weird for like a day and I’m convinced that this means Freb is in his death throes. Die, Freb, Die. No peanut-butter and M&Ms for you! Those are MINE!

So anyway, just to add insult to injury I also ended up with this really creepy looking rash over my arms, legs, feet, hands, and waist. It looked like I had spent a day in a vacuum with a million mosquitoes. And it itched like madness. So, I will not lie, I was secretly terrified that I had decompression sickness from diving and thus would never be allowed to dive again which would likely break my heart. But, turns out, according to the dermatologist, that I had an “immunological reaction to a bug bite.” I can actually tell you exactly how I think this happened. So, like 3 weeks ago I went to a training session for 3 days out of town. One night, I got rocked by a spider who I suspect was trapped in my bed with me and literally ended up with about 20 spider bites on my legs. You know, with the clear two little fang marks. It was either a vampire or a spider. And they really killed me and have in some places left me with rather ugly scars. Then, when I was at reconnect or a day or two before reconnect, I got bit by another spider. I can see the bite marks on my fingers in two places. And at this point my body was basically like “Look, Rebeckis, enough with the spider bites. Just for that I am freaking out now.” And my body screwed me over.

So, between my three varied illnesses I have become a petri dish of disgustingness vs. modern medicine and am now taking antiparasites, antibiotics, probiotics, steroids, prescription antihistamines, my regular allergy meds, and a steroid cream for my rash. Nice, eh? How very American of me to take 7 medications! Maybe I just needed a little feel of America.

Thankfully, I have stopped “bathrooming”, Freb feels like he is dying, I can eat bland things such as bread and pasta, and my rash is looking much better. So, I believe I shall survive. But, this event has made me think that there really should be some sort of parameter for retiring parasite names, kind of like bad hurricanes. So I have decided that the rubric for deciding retirement should be based on the following chart. Any parasite name scoring a 3.5 or above shall be retired.

So, According to my chart let’s look at both Edgar and Freb.

Edgar:

• Grossness of Entry into the Body: 1 point: And that is why you always bring your own water, my friends!
• Grossness of Type of Creature: 3 points: Amoebas. EEEEEWEEE!!!!!!!
• Proximity to Other Heinous Diseases: 3 points: That would be my first bacterial infection! Hooray lettuce!
• Severity of Medication and/or Difficulty in Eradication: 5 points: No wrapping worms around sticks, but I did vomit all night.
• Longevity of Future Storytelling: 5 points: This story was kind of nice because I was helping a very poor community who gave me their lunch. So I think I can get some “aawweee’s” out of it in the future even if I did spend a week in bed.

Edgar Scores: 17 points for an average of 3.4 points!

Status: Name retained for future parasite use! Hmmm. I may need to refine this rubric as Edgar was pretty freeking horrible… Wait, wasn’t there a hurricane that was like a category 1 that was retired because it caused so much damage? Screw it, EDGAR IS RETIRED!

Freb:

• Grossness of Entry into the Body: 5 points: Freb came through the skin. Possibly the anus as I did sit on the pile of fresh dirt for a few minutes. But I think it was through my hands. Dear god, I hope it was through my hands.
• Grossness of Type of Creature: 3 points: Although Freb technically could leave my body of his own volition that would mean I really let him just take over. Really he’s just super gross at 3 points.
• Proximity to Other Heinous Diseases: 5 points: Hooray severe bacterial infection and creepy rash!
• Severity of Medication and/or Difficulty in Eradication: 5 points: This medication could have made me vomit but thankfully it didn’t. I just feel Freb dying. But it gets 5 points for being 7 different medications.
• Longevity of Future Storytelling: 5 points: I think the grossness of worms can definitely be recounted. Especially when combined with shitting water for 4 days and a weird rash all over my body.

Freb Scores: 23 points for an average of 4.6 points!

Status: Freb has hereby been retired as a plausible parasite name!!!!

Oh, fun with disease.

So, I was warned by other volunteers that when I came home from vacation that I was going to be inundated with people thinking I had gone back to the states even though I specifically told all of them that I was going to be gone for two weeks. And sure enough, everyone thought I had left including my host family, my neighbors, and my coworkers. Seriously, people? I wrote it down on the dry erase board RIGHT THERE! Sigh. I haven’t broken it to them that I have to leave for another two weeks at the end of this month. I have another week long work thing and then another week long play thing. I’m going back to Utila for my 30^th birthday celebration even though it will dry out my bank account. Screw it, you only turn 30 once. And honestly, the little bit of money I have wouldn’t do shit in a real emergency anyway.

Which brings me to the best subject ever: UTILA!!!!

Oh my god, I fell in love with this hippie little island. There were backpacking Europeans as far as the eye could see, beautiful clear water where you could literally see the fish swim below you, decent food, expensive beer, and just a generally relaxed and friendly atmosphere. And the diving hooked me. It was just the most peaceful and zen experience I have ever had. I absolutely loved it. As a matter of fact I am seriously considering ditching my other “end of Peace Corps” travels that I was thinking about including: backpacking Europe (not likely as it would dry up my funds and I need to at least put down a rent and electricity deposit wherever I settle), the Appalachian Trail (someday, I shall tackle you), the Florida trail (maybe with my nieces one summer), bumming from family member to family member (family members include friends in Texas and Oklahoma), so that I can stay in Utila for a couple months to get a Dive Masters Certification. It would be the cheapest option and dear God! I could dive like 15 times a WEEK!

Anyhoo, so about the trip. I went with my friend Mcat and it started out with a very long bus ride with a lady poking me in the ribs with her elbow the whole time and a rather startling lack of food options at the rest stops. Not that the food mattered anyway because there are no lines in which to stand and buy it. It’s kind of just a free-for-all whoever is the loudest gets served system. Thankfully, I was reading a great book called “Bridge of Birds” that the Kellinator sent me (that book should totally be made into a movie) so I was content enough. Then we had a very choppy 45 minute ride on a ferry to the island where about 40% of the passengers turned a rather sickly white/green/gray color and laid down in the seats. Towards the end I was even getting a little nauseous and I have only been seasick once in my life.

Then we got onto the island, got to the dive center, we were showed around, we changed into swimsuits, and immediately jumped into the warm Caribbean goodness. And, as I usually say here in Honduras, “GOD, I LOVE THE WATER!” It isn’t until you have an alarming lack of recreational water that you realize how much you love it and miss it. Oh, magnificent sea, you are my siren call. Later, I learned that you could jump in from the top deck of the dock which afterwards became my normal mode of swimming entry (yes, I am going to be 30 next month and I still act like I am 13. And someday some lovely woman will love me for it and will bring me ibuprofen for my aches and pains). Although, when I didn’t feel like leaping off the top deck, I instead went running across the dock and soaring into a dive like a chubby mermaid leaping gloriously into her domain with merriment written across her face. I’m pretty sure that is exactly what I looked like, anyway.

So, the next day we had our first dive class which sadly was indoors. But you know, we had to learn some important things like nitrogen can really screw you up, and not to panic if some fool knocks your respirator out of your mouth. Oddly enough, we all laughed at the idiot in the video who kept doing that, but turns out that in reality it totally happens. Usually because of flighty red-headed New Zealanders in your dive class, but whatever, it can happen. Our dive instructor was a total stoner surfer type named Tyler who at first I thought would probably be the cause of my death. Turns out, he was extremely knowledgeable and very serious about diving and safety.

Next day we got to go into the water. At first, I am not going to lie, I kind of freaked out a bit. Mainly because I kept getting water in my mouth when switching from the respirator to the snorkel. But after awhile I got the hang of it and we learned to sit on the bottom of the ocean floor (on a giant training mat) and do some important stuff like taking all of your equipment on and off, clearing your mask of water, switching to your secondary respirator, buddy breathing, all of the important signs, and so on and so on.

Next day we went on our first real dive and it was amaaaaaaazing. I had such a blast. We went through a place called “Airport Caves” which was a short cave system. I was terrified but had so much fun going through them. I hadn’t (and haven’t) mastered the art of buoyancy (floating up and down correctly) so I would occasionally knock my tank on the ceiling and felt really badly about it. But as of that day I was completely hooked.

The last day of diving Tyler wasn’t with us as we were his last class so we went with another chap named Chip (hullo alliteration!) On this dive I freaked the hell out. We went under and I sank like a damn rock and totally wigged out trying not to touch the ocean floor. I could not figure out what was going on and at one point I was trapped between the coral wall and the other divers in my class and found myself either running into one or the other. So I opted to run into the divers and then try to swim up above them slightly. I got many dagger eyes from them, but I really didn’t want to mess up the coral.

And then I really just felt like something was wrong and I couldn’t breathe. So I absolutely lost it and panicked and hyperventilated. I told Mcat, my dive buddy, by making the “something is wrong” sign and pointing to my throat, which unfortunately was interpreted by her as me having a sore throat. But, I could tell by her face she realized something was wrong so I signaled that I was going to go tell our dive master. So I swam up next to him about an arm’s length away ready to tap him and let him know something was wrong. But, I decided to try to just calm myself. So I floated next to him, closed my eyes, and took some deep breaths and, honestly, chanted a mantra to calm myself. Thankfully, I calmed myself down. But, in the process of all of that I sucked up a lot of air. I ended up running out of air waaaaay before the others so our dive only lasted 38 minutes. When we got out of the water I felt terrible and kind of swam off a bit as to not cry in front of the others. I was so confused because I had no idea what had happened and I felt super bad for being the cause of the short dive (not that anyone knew other than me and our dive master).

Well, then we got back on the boat and Mcat mentioned to Chip that she felt like she was weighted wrong. Turns out, she had been weighted the weights they put on us our first day when the wanted us to sink to the bottom ON PURPOSE for training. Not our correct weighting for actual diving. So, as soon as I heard that I realized that I was overweighted significantly and turns out I was carrying nearly 20 pounds of weight instead of the 12 I had on real dives. So Chip changed my weights and the next dive was significantly different, lasted over an hour, and I felt like the freest, happiest, and calmest person on the planet. I just had so much fun it was amazing. The only thing that would have made that dive better would be me eating chocolate and well, you know what, at the same time as diving. But that would be difficult, I imagine. Later, when I told Chip what had happened, he very politely reminded me that I could have put air in my BCD (kind of like a jacket) and that would have equalized the extra weight. But, I honestly spaced that out and I also really could not figure out what was wrong. You can actually see in the pictures of the dive (we all chipped in for a camera on the last dive day) that I am swimming at a sharp angle instead of horizontal, which was caused by the weights pulling my hips down. NOW it all makes sense. Live and learn, you know?

So, what all did I see on my marvelous dives? Well, I saw lots of things that I am not sure what they were. But I can tell you that there was one part of the ocean floor that looked like a forest of conical trees. There was a fish that blended in the coral wall so well that I was about a foot away before I saw it and I literally leaped backwards in the water causing Tyler, the dive instructor, to laugh and suck in water. There was a squadron (?) of squid that swam over the top of us with their amusing body shapes and giant eyes. There was a school of beautiful bright blue fish that swam through us. There was all manner of coral including brain coral, coral that looked like fragile fans, all colors of the rainbow. There were fish that looked like they were painted by Picasso. There was a little shrimp that I named Pierre because I am positive he was a very angry French shrimp with his curly whiskers and disgruntled attitude who was sitting inside a conical piece of coral shaking his fist at us while screaming “freedom fries are not French, you IDIOT” as we passed. There were starfish. There were little worm looking critters on the ocean floor. There were crabs. There were so many things I couldn’t believe it. There was also a really cool eel that sounded like it was screaming at us from his hole in the coral.

One of my favorite things was that in some places where the ocean floor was sandy there wouldn’t be much coral. But even if there was one little piece like a foot high it was surrounded by fish who were “hiding.” Totally cracked me up. YOU CAN’T SEE ME! The few things that I am certain I know the names of, thanks to a Dive Master named Dom, are: the Atlantic Spadefish, Brain Coral, Branching Fire Coral, Sea Fan, Goldentail Moray, Gray Angelfish, Gray Snapper, Great Barracuda, Green Moray, Hermit Crab, Sponge Brittle Star, Squat Lobster, Squid, Variegated Urchin, and Wrasse.

Oh, oh! And then, the last day, I refused to believe the trip was almost over so I decided to snorkel the area around the dive center and saw even MORE cool things. In one spot some false reefs were sunken and I floated above it for about 15 minutes just watching the fish. Then, all of the sudden, a HUGE Green Moray (eel) swam out of one of the false reefs and into the other. I saw his whole body and he looked like he was 5 feet long! I, again, jumped back in the water I was so shocked!

But the most amazing part of the entire trip was the dolphins. When we came up out of the water our next to last day the people on the boat were yelling at us to hurry and get on the boat because there was a dolphin sighting nearby. So we all hopped onto the boat, ripped off our gear, put on just masks and fins (I didn’t have a snorkel which proved to be a huge pain in my ass), and chased off after the dolphins. When we found them we slowly slid into the water as to not scare them and I swam with at least 15 dolphins. I kid you not. It was the most amazing experience of my entire life, to swim with such a beautiful and intelligent creature IN THE WILD. And I swear to you they played with us. We never touched them but they would jump out of the water between us, would swim around us in circles, would dive down with us when we swam down into the water, and just generally PLAYED with us! Then, just to make it even more disgustingly beautiful, deep below the ones playing with us we saw three dolphins swimming so close as to touch each other and immediately next to them was a BABY. The baby and the three with it never came close to us but still stayed and swam close enough that you could clearly see them about 8 meters away. Eventually the pod swam away, but I kid you not, 4 different times we got on the boat, chased after them, and got back into the water with them. And you could hear them talking to each other! It wasn’t until about an hour and a half later when it was clear that they were leaving for good that we finally left as well. It was fitting, as the sun was setting. I have never experienced anything like that. And, of course, it doesn’t happen very often at the dive center. No joke that many of the dive instructors were in the water right with us. It was absolutely amazing.

So yeah, now you can see why I can’t wait to go back. Even though I probably won’t see dolphins again, I just can’t wait to go back to that peaceful world. It will be worth spending my last bit of money on. And hopefully next February I can go back a third time to get my Rescue Diver certification (I’m going to try to attempt the impossible and save some of my PC salary). I currently have “Open Water” which allows me to dive to 18m, I believe. At the end of this month I’m going back for my birthday for “Advanced Open Water” which will allow me to dive to 30 or 40m, and Rescue Diver is just what it sounds like but is required before you can do the Dive Masters.

Oh, and I met some super cool people in Utila too. My dive class included a really nice Canadian girl named Ashley, a very chill Australian named Steven, a flighty and apt-to-wander-off-underwater New Zealander named Roma, a quiet and quirky Spaniard named Philipo who spent most of his time in the water upside down (on purpose? Maybe?), and Mcat a lovely Wisconsonian who is my personal cheese advisor (I highly recommend you try the 4 year sharp aged cheddar). I also met some super cool people studying for their dive masters including Ash who turned out to be a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer from Azerbaijan, Marlo who is a good conversationalist and has a beautiful tattoo of bamboo on her back, Tyler the Surfer who claims to be our generations experiment in diving (he pushes all the limits including diving to 59.7 meters without enriched air… technically he was an instructor, he has his DM and much more), Dom who takes beautiful underwater photography, Max our handsome dorm-mate who was constantly running around rescuing people from various maladies (drowning, rabid dogs, you know… the usual) during his rescue diver training, and Caroline who was a very interesting and pretty chick from London with a super awesome accent and who uses cool words like “twigged.”

So, if anyone wants to visit, we should go to Utila, unless you want the real 3^rd world poverty experience, which I would be happy to show you in addition to or instead of Utila. Roatan is the main island but is VERY expensive and touristy. Utila is still chill enough to be totally affordable (for an American, not for a PC volunteer on a Honduran salary) and has become my personal paradise. Now, I am very excited to check out some dive spots in Florida when I have a real grown up job (again) and can afford to go more often.

Oh, I just can’t wait to go back to Utila.

I will tell you, that I was not exactly looking forward to coming home because I had so much fun in Utila and with my friends during reconnect (I tried to ignore my trifecta of disease as much as I could between trips to the bathroom and bouts of scratching). But, when I got back my neighbors were so excited to see me and chatted with me for like 2 hours. And when I went back to work they joked with me all day and made me feel really welcome to be back. And my host family saw me and all gave me a big hug (well, other than my hobro’s who are too cool for school) and told me they were worried. So, I feel a lot better about being here now. Maybe I’m making a bit more impact than I thought, even if it’s just making some connections here and there. And besides, I can always go visit my friends and once in a while, if the stars align correctly, I may be able to go dive again. Here’s hoping I get a tax return this year!

Until next time, I highly recommend swimming with dolphins if given the chance. I highly discourage getting a parasite, bacteria, and spider bite simultaneously. And I highly encourage you to come visit me in Utila, Honduras and pay for it, too.

Love, hugs, and Shrimps with French Accents!

Beck

PS. I have two new photo albums if you are intersted:

“SCUBA!!!!!!!” You can probably guess what that one is about.

“Reconnect: Latrines and Fiestas” Where we learned to build latrines, fiesta’d in funky town, and where I got ridiculously ill.

Fijase que I forgot to mention that I have a couple of new photo albums. Check them out through the link below or on the right. They are called:

A Bit of My PC Work

My Apartamento

Peace Corps Moments

Also, I am getting a puppy because:

1. I’m lonely
2. Puppies are cute
3. Helps with safety
4. Will force me to be out in my community more instead of being reclusive
5. I’m a sucker

So, if anyone wants to send me puppy things in a package, I will add that to my wish list along with:

• Puppy Things!
• Tea
• Ziploc Bags
• Incense
• Runners World, National Geographic, Smithsonian magazine
• Ingrid Michaelsons new CD… cough cough.

Major thanks to Kelly and Mort who continue to amuse me with packages containing much needed things such as sheets and socks, and also just awesomeness such as gum and a yo-yo!!!! Im totally taking the yoyo with me everywhere. Something to do while I wait for hondurans to show up an hour late.

Hello!

LAST TIME IN NERDALICIOUS: This is my town! Non-ferret selling hardware store houses. Giant alien dish. Big stone wheel in the rock laden park. Soccer court with a death defying dropoff. My awesome apartment. The kooks I work with. 

THIS TIME IN NERDALICIOUS: Best phrase ever. Two opposing schools. Work!!! Riding in the back of trucks! Smooshing into trucks! Falling off cliffs. Tortilla pants. Hondurans can’t seem to arrive on time, but God help you there WILL be coffee at 3:00. How come the Honduran lady in dress flats didn’t fall off the mountain but the Gringa in hiking boots did?

So, I went from literally crying about my lack of work to having a deer in the headlight look at the amount of work that I have! I’m sure this too, shall pass, but it is very nice at the moment to be busy. Plus, now I have a sweet farmer tan. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, so one day I was getting the brushoff, which usually starts with the phrase “fijase que.” Now, this phrase literally means “to settle or become fixed.” In Honduras this phrase can be translated in many different ways depending on where you are from. For example:

• One of my little Ebonics kids I taught in the states: “What had happened was…”
• In the South: “Well, we were fixin’ to, but…”
• Canada: “Not sure what happened, eh.”
• The west coast: “Dude, like, it’s cool, no worries.”

Get the general gist? Basically, it is a huge brush off. Let me give you some examples of how fijase que can be best used, so that you can use it in your own life. And why would you want to do such a thing? Well, you see, the nice thing is that if you start with “Fijase que” it automatically nullifies the responsibility of whatever comes next. This is most convenient, and I lament that we do not have an exact responsibility-quashing phrase in the states, such as this one:

Gringa: Hey! So, you guys said we are going to go work in the schools tomorrow. What time should I come in the morning?

Honduran Coworker: Fijase que, we have a meeting so we will go Wednesday.

(Repeat this conversation for 2 months)

Gringa: Hey! I thought you guys said to come at 7:00am? It’s 8:30!

Honduran Coworkers in Mass: Fijase que, well, you know, we lost track of time.

(Repeat this conversation every morning)

Gringa: Hey! I would like a coke please!

Pulperia Owner: Fijase que, I’m out of coke.

Gringa: I thought the meeting was at the alcaldea. Why didn’t you tell me you moved it to the school?

Honduran Group Leader: Fijase que, we thought you knew!      

Gringa: Dude! You screwed up my plumbing!

Really Well Integrated PC Volunteer: Fijase que, I was trying to improve your water pressure.

Gringa: My bedroom is flooded!

RWIPCV: Fijase que, I’m already on the bus home.
 

I think that this phrase should be added to Qué Barbara and Qué Barbaridad phrases that I think need to be used in the states. I mean, we really could use a responsibility-quashing phrase. Let’s try some examples, shall we?

“You idiot! You just dented my rear bumper!”

“Fijase que, I was putting in a CD!”

“That report was due at noon yesterday!”

“Fijase que, I didn’t have time to finish it.”

“Dude! You ate my last candy bar!”

“Fijase que, I was hungry.”

“Our economy is in the crapper!”

“Fijase que, I’m not in office anymore.”

And just like that, the other person has to eat it because you nullified your responsibility in the matter. So, all of that was to explain how annoying it is when I got “fijase que’d” for nearly 2 months solid. But, then one day, all of the sudden, we really WERE going to go to the schools. The next day. And then the first thing I asked, I couldn’t help it, was “You mean to tell me, that you guys have just spent three months planning for the next two years but you didn’t plan for TOMORROW?” Then again, the 1^st day I walked into the office Carlos says, “So, we have 800 kids in this area with cavities. What can we do about that?” “Ummmmm… I have no idea.” So anyway, in one day I had to help them crash-plan a 3 hour lesson on Nature Reserves and a 3 hour lesson on Brushing Your Teeth. On the other hand, I did not have to do the Art/Culture project, so I was pleased.

So, the next day, very much not prepared, we went to our first school. My partner totally ignored our plan and just kind of jumped in, so I followed him and did all of the games and active exercises at once instead of interspersed throughout the 3 hours. It was fun, but I hate it when I have to team teach with people who are unprepared. I get devil eyes. You can ask my brother and my ex about devil eyes.

The next day we went to a school that basically already was light years ahead of the other schools in environmental education. This was most definitely the influence of the teacher who is super organized and dedicated. So every child was responsible for taking care of a sapling as part of a reforestation project, they had a committee of students who were responsible for taking the garbage to a pit they dug where they burn the garbage (it is a start, at least they don’t just throw it on the ground like most). The school was beautiful, landscaped by the students, and they had it all down pretty well. So, we are going to work with that school on composting because they totally schooled us.

The next day after that we went to the light year-ahead school’s nemesis: backasswards behind school (wait, if you are backasswards AND behind does that put you forward? I have confused myself in my cleverness.). This school was absolutely ridiculous, which I also feel was the influence of the teacher. The community, as most rural communities, is very poor but the school was dirty, barren of anything on the walls, and the kids were terribly behaved. But, I had to teach everything myself that day so it was a good opportunity to see what could and could not keep their attention. And see what did and did not keep their attention, I certainly did.

So, after a lot more of those three scenarios repeating themselves, I decided they were not using my skill set well, and I wrote a 14 page guide to the Nature Reserve lesson including materials needed, how much time each activity needed, how to do each activity step by step, and discussion questions at the end of each activity. Then I created all the materials and left them there for my coworkers as I went to a PC training session for three days. When I came back we had a meeting where “we” decided that my time could best be utilized by evaluating how well the activities we create function, and then create a teacher manual. The trick, is that eventually they want the kids to be the teachers (for example 6^th graders teaching the rest of the 1^st-5^th graders in the class). So the teacher manual will basically be telling them how to lead the kids to be leaders. And then the kids will have their own manuals. Sound complicated? Yes, it is. It will take my whole 2 years here to get them decent manuals for each of the 5 programs. And then they will have to continue evaluating and revising them while I am gone until they have a publishable set of teaching manuals. But, at least I feel like it is possible I may leave something sustainable.

But, the best part of going to the schools is I get to ride in the back of the truck! This requires always having a clean sports bra to wear (or at least one that isn’t stinky), but it is super fun to me since you can’t really do that in the states. And since the streets are so horrifyingly crappy in the rural areas, you can’t really drive that fast. So it’s kind of like a free circus ride that throws you all around, but for like an hour one way. I always know it’s going to be a long way when they break out the sunscreen. When Hondurans reach for the sunscreen, you can pretty much guarantee the gringa is going to go home a lobster.

On the flip side, when you pick up a bunch of hitchhikers throughout the hour long ride to the rural school, it becomes a lot harder to find something to hold on to as you slide around the back of the truck. And sometimes, for some reason, they insist on cramming us all IN the truck. This occurs when we have the truck with the backseat (fijase que sometimes that truck is in teguc so we have to use another smaller one). And this makes things a lot clearer when I think back on all the Hispanics that come out of a single vehicle in the states. Because we have, I kid you not, fit 5 people in the back seat of that truck. And it is NOT a big truck. And I am NOT a small lady. And usually I am on the edge and thus bang my head on the “oh-shit” bar the whole way. I considered explaining why we call it the “oh-shit” bar the other day, then decided against it. I wasn’t convinced the translation would work. Anyway, so transportation to the schools is usually an adventure. One that I prefer to spend in the BACK of the truck sliding around and looking at the pretty view and treacherous rock laden paths.

And that is 1/3^rd of my job here. The next 1/3^rd is to work on a similar manual for the Juntas de Aguas. I’m excited about that one because the JdA training here is horrible. The JdA’s are basically community centered groups of at least 7 men and women who take care of the water system in their community, including: levying tariffs, collecting on the tariffs, repairing the system, chlorinating the water, implementing water laws, protecting the watershed, etc. And this is quite the training escapade. Most times the JdA’s are not collecting decent tariffs from the houses, or the houses refuse to pay, often they can’t buy chlorine so they are not chlorinating the water, and on and on it goes. So, it is clear to most that the government training is not working, and most of the other training is not either. Many times they know what they are SUPPOSED to be doing, but the attitude changes have not been made. So, PC asked me to help a few other volunteers to create a new training manual. Quite interesting. Another big job that will take about a year to create and another year to evaluate.

And the last 1/3^rd is surveying and designing water systems. So, I finished my first survey recently and it was a very Honduran week. To begin with, I had asked a volunteer to come and help me just in case I screwed everything up (incidentally, he used to engineer submarines so he shall be called crazy-awesome-sub-engineer-man or CASEM). Unfortunately, Casem had trouble catching a bus and ended up being quite late. But that ended up being okay because my host dad forgot he was supposed to give me a ride anyway, and when the volunteer showed up, I called Hoda and he said “OH MY GOD, I WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE YOU A RIDE” and 10 minutes later he was at my door unshaven and pretty much in his jammies with eye crusties. But, because Hoda had also given this community a lecture on how gringa’s were very on time, my poor community helpers had been sitting waiting for me for an hour and a half. So Hoda very apologetically and sheepishly fijase que’d them all.

So, I ended up having 5 people helping me on the survey and one of them was a woman. I made very sure that when I explained to the community that I needed helpers, that I used the word “people” instead of “men.” But, I was honestly very surprised that they had a woman help. I mean, this is a very gender biased country and we were climbing some seriously crazy inclines (actually they were around 58°, to be exact) and at one point actually had to climb about 10 feet of rock with all the equipment. So wow, that is pretty cool. Of course, she was wearing dress flats. I was slipping all over the place in hiking boots and fell like 4 times and this woman was just walking all up the mountain in dress flats. I mean, seriously, really?

So anyhoo, we got off to a late start the first day, and then my equipment decided to be a punk and not work correctly. This is because my equipment is different then everyone elses. I practiced with it in my apartment (see picture), realized it was different, called everyone who had a total station, nobody could figure out how to get mine to give distance (via phone), told my boss when he came for a site visit who told me to tell my other boss, told my other boss who told me to look online for a manual, looked online for a manual and found that a total station from 1980 does not have an online manual (fancy that), and then I just started mashing buttons until I magically came up with distance. Then I had to borrow a tape measure from a neighbor just in case the reading was wrong. But, her 7 year old son had used it and stuck it somewhere, so she only had a tailors measuring tape, so I basically crawled across my floor measuring 17.58 feet in 5 foot pieces to be sure I had actually figured out how to get distance. But then I had to figure out how to make it give me meters instead of feet. Sigh.

(This, by the way, has once and for all convinced me that my entire Peace Corps service is actually a scavenger hunt. This happens to me all the time. Coworker, do you know where I can buy cloth bags? Try the store across from the park. Do you sell cloth bags? No, try the Ferreteria. Do you sell cloth bags? No, try the market by the school. Do you sell cloth bags? No, try Lucy’s store by the pharmacy. Do you sell cloth bags? No, try the store across from the park. DAMN.)

But I digress. So, I thought I had it figured out but apparently, the machine did not agree. So Casem and I took turns fiddling with the damn machine for like 20 minutes while poor German (his name was German, he was not from Germany) was patiently holding the prism on the edge of a 15 foot drop (all the while, I imagine thinking “These people have no idea what they are doing”). Which, by the way, if I could give you a little survey advice… be sure to tell the people helping you that if they are at the edge of a 15 foot drop, that means that you then have to move your equipment and stand on a 15 foot drop while having no idea where you can step because you are facing in the wrong direction. After about 30 minutes and about 2,329 button sequences pushed, we somehow got distance IN METERS. Miracle.

So, then we moved to the precipice-of-death. Well, 15 feet is more like the precipice-of-broken-leg, but that isn’t as scary sounding. So, Casem was on one side of the machine and I was on the other, and somehow we managed to level it. But I couldn’t get around it to take the back shot (you have to shoot back to your previous point to keep everything in reference to the 1^st shot which is set to North…. If you care to know) because to get the backshot you would have to climb up a 3 foot wall of mountain and stand on it while looking off the edge of the precipice-of-broken-leg. And to get the front shot you would have to pull a roadrunner and stand on invisible air off the edge of the precipice-of-broken-leg. So, Casem had to do the back shot and I had to do the front shot (when you shoot to the next point) so that we didn’t fall off the cliff. Unfortunately, I then slipped and came to about an inch of the edge before I fell on my rear. My biggest concern was that Mcat would be REALLY pissed if I broke my leg and we couldn’t go scuba diving. I should have been more concerned about thorns. That came later.

So that time it only took 1,245 button sequences. And this continued point for point until we got to about 27 button sequences. Then, because Hondurans have an insane body clock, all of my helpers (German, Maria, Alexander, Gerson, and Chavo whose real name I do not know) all of the sudden were standing next to me exclaiming that it was time for lunch. And the following conversation happened:

“Okay, great. But I just leveled the equipment; can we take one more point?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, but I can see both sides of this line; can we take one more in the other direction?”

“Okay.”

“Great, but is that house in the system? It’s really high up, fijase que, I need to take one more shot to there.”

“Sigh. Okay.”

Then we went to lunch, which, was at the top of a hill because this town it equivalent to a moving staircase in the Hogwarts Castle and I swear to whatever deity you personally prefer that we walked uphill 50x more often than downhill. It was like a magic ass-sculpting town or something. So, Casem and I get there and are subsequently given a GIGANTIC plate of food. Now, granted, I did tell them that they needed to give me lunch. But I forgot that lunch in the USA is like, a sandwich, some chips, and an apple. She cooked a HUGE plate of rice, potatoes, tortillas (the trifecta of carbs), chicken, salad, AND watermelon. Poor Casem was having stomach issues and had to stir his food around to make it look like he ate. I ate most all of it because I feel guilty not eating everything they give me. I’m like 95% sure that she killed one of her chickens for us. And her kids, of which there were at least 7, had the tell-tale blonde highlights of chronic malnutrition. And here I am, a chubby American eating at their house and they give me enough food for two grown men. But, it would be a great insult to not eat, so I ate and told her she was a great cook and off we went with SUPER full stomachs back to the survey. So after awhile Casem left to go home (he lives about 3 hours away) and we surveyed all the way to where the family who I ate lunch with lived. And she brought us coffee!

Next morning, I get up and go to my counterpart agency and they give me a lift to the point we met at the previous day. Turns out, I had lacked in my Spanish slightly the day before, and German had come to pick me up. I totally misunderstood. So I was sitting at the community well waiting for German and he called me from my apartment and then had to come back to the community. I felt kind of bad. So I forgot to mention that at the moment this community is all lowering buckets into a hand-dug well to get their water, and they carry it anywhere from 50 feet to 2 kilometers home depending on what side of the town they live on. They usually wash their clothes right there at the well on some rocks that they have stacked to make makeshift wash racks. And next to the well are some sticks with some garbage bags tied to it to make a makeshift shower stall, and people shower right in the street next to the well. Obviously, there are a lot of problems with illnesses associated with lack of water and with polluted water in this community.

Anyhoo, so everybody was right on time this morning and we continued with the survey. It was a pretty uneventful day that was very hot and full of branches (offshoots of the main distribution line). The community turned out to be very hilly so I had to move every 50 meters or so to take new shots.  So lunch that day was equally as gigantic. I had sugar-ketchup-spaghetti, rice, tortillas (the ménage à trios of carbs), carne asada, salad, and watermelon with grape soda. The grape soda was an interesting touch. This time, when they weren’t looking I slipped 4 tortillas in my pocket, and let me tell you why. The previous day, we did not eat any tortillas because frankly, most gringos don’t dig tortillas with every meal. So then it occurred to me that maybe she realized we didn’t eat any tortillas and she would be upset. But then I figured there was no way she knew how many tortillas there had been. But, if she gave me tortillas again when I was alone, she would know she only gave me like 5 and that I didn’t eat them. So I slipped 4 in my pocket when nobody was looking. I also slipped the kitten food. She was pathetic looking. I will admit, I did forget about the tortillas, so imagine my surprise when I put on the same pants the next morning and had dried up crusty tortillas in my pocket. Not lovely.

Anyhoo, so we managed to finish the entire distribution line that same day which left only a 2^nd conduction line. Like a fool, I agreed to shoot two conduction lines so that we could decide later which one was better. This was because the first conduction line was only like ½ a kilometer. So, imagine my confusion when I suggested we go ahead and spend one more hour to shoot the second conduction line and my lovely hard-working Hondurans balked! I was like, okay, whatever, we can do it in the morning if you want. So, we started walking back towards the community well, and hark! The lunch lady had walked 2 kilometers across the town with her daughter and son in tow, carrying a pot of coffee, cake, coffee cups, and a canister of sugar. I mean, it was 3:00, so there you go! Time for a snack! Because, I really needed MORE food. I could not believe it. So, we all pulled up a rock, sat in a random little path, and had a lovely cup of joe and a donut type cake that was called simply, “frito.” Or, “fried.” Naturally.

So then, we walked uphill back to the community well (even though I could have sworn we walked uphill the entire distribution line, but my buns are a little more like steel, so oh well), and German said he would give me a ride back to the community. So, we actually walked downhill to his house, which honestly I took note of (it was odd to be walking downhill). We get all the way to his house, and another community member ran up and told us that my coworkers had come to pick me up. DAMN THE LUCK we had to walk back up to the well. Sigh. So this time, German made sure I understood that he was going to pick me up at 7:30 in the morning to finish the second distribution line.

So, at 7:30 on the dot I get a call and German is waiting outside. He took Hoda’s speech on gringo time management very seriously. I was pleased. So, I get in his truck and I have to tell you I love this truck. It was a little blue heap of complete junk with a CD player. I actually had a spring poking into my back the whole time, but there was a CD player. I was cracking up inside.

So, we go to where we are going to take the last distribution line shots, and now I see why they didn’t want to do it the day before (well first of all, when I got home the previous day it started pouring down rain almost 30 minutes exactly from when I left. So good call, Hondurans.). The day before I looked up at this little mountain and just saw the top of it which had recently been cleared and burned (yay for slash and burn agriculture!). So it seemed like it would be a clear shot. WRONG. The bottom was all jungle at… let me check my notes… a 57° 46’ 30” angle for about a kilometer. So, the guys commenced to start hacking through the jungle including leveling some small trees which made me wince, as they really are supposed to avoid hacking down trees. And we had to hop over no less than 4 barbed wire fences. It was super fun, but after about the 4^th time I slipped and almost fell down the steep inclines, my guys (and lady) wouldn’t let me carry any of my equipment anymore. I think that was a good call. The last time I fell (where they took my equipment away from me) I grabbed onto a tree to stop myself from going off about an 8 foot drop. Did you know that there are trees in Honduras with thorns all over the trunk? Yes, indeed there are. I said some worty dirds and got a hole in my pants.  So, it ended up taking about 3 hours because of all the jungle hacking and the climbing (and falling – except the lady in the dress flats. She never fell once). But, we finished before lunch.

Sadly, however, I could not go home because the community was told they had to give me lunch and thus they had made me lunch. A gigantic plate of Honduran lo mein and tortillas. Because, who DOESN’T eat pasta with tortillas? So, with three pounds of pasta in my stomach and 4 tortillas in my pocket, I finally went home. On the way, I realized that if I moved just so, the broken spring in German’s truck would massage a sore spot in my back as we went over the horrible rural roads. See? Life is all about perspective.

So, I was pleased to get home by noon. And then, I kid you not, one of my neighbors (who I like a lot) brought me over a giant plate of lasagna. So, I then, out of respect for the razza-frazza culture, ate another giant plate of lasagna. I swear to you, I should have sweat, walked, climbed, and fell my way into a full pant size smaller and instead I think I gained 5 pounds on this survey. It is now 9:11 at night and I am STILL full. I did, however, remember to throw my tortillas away this time.

And that is the story of what I have been up to the past two weeks, minus the training I went to. Which was lots of fun but not too blog interesting. And, I now have to pack my clothes because I’m going to be gone scuba diving and then to a training session for the next two weeks. So fijase que, I won’t be posting a blog for about two weeks.

Until then, remember that surveying on the edge of cliffs may lead to thorny, yet sculpted asses, and that pocket-tortillas can cause ants in your pants.

With love and a farmer tan,

REJOWI

Hello all!

LAST WEEKS BLOG: Cheese, and peanut butter, and chocolate OH MY! Sister in law and mom in the underwear challenge. PACKAGES ROCK!

I plan to post a more substantial blog later in the week, but for now, I would like to introduce you to my town! I also posted this as a separate page (link at the top of the page) if you want to revisit my crazy town. I hope to post more pics as I have time to take them!

Welcome to my town! Here is a brief tour. Hopefully I will add a few things over time that I didn’t have time to take pictures of, such as all of the simultaneous soccer games that go on around town. For those of you technologically savvy I apologize in advance for the ghetto way I had to post these pictures. It is too expensive and takes too long to post pictures normally (at least this quantity) so I had to kind of attach them together. You will see….

If you would like to play the “Visit Honduras” game (or adult beverage game, if you prefer) look for the following two signs hidden amost the pictures! They are EVERYWHERE and are waiting for you to find them. Both are phone companies advertising that you can buy saldo (recharge) at that house/store. Take small sips or you will be tipsy by the end of the blog:

Hi all!

This is a quickie blog (under the bleachers and behind the school) to say THANKS for the packages I got!!! I got packages from Killakelly and the Mortician, Mom and Dad, Andy and Tara, Jamiesons, and Grandma Carol! I know there are a couple more in the mail from you awesome people but with the political crapola (what color would a crayola be if it were to be called crapola?) it’s taking a bit longer for stuff to get here…

SO SORRY that it costs and arm and a leg to send me a package!!!! Holy cow! But, I totally appreciate it. So, because things have been so rough for me the past month I figured I would give you a play by play of my package opening experience!

So, I have tried to get these packages forever now. I have begged to be allowed to go to the capital, I have asked several people to bring them down but all of their plans changed, I have whined, etc. And finally today I had a site visit from my project director (which I will expunge upon in my next blog) and he brought me my goods. I was so excited that at one moment I found myself staring at my boxes instead of paying attention!

Anyway, so after boss-man left I rushed home and grabbed a glass of tea, put on “The Dark Night” (why? Because I didn’t finish watching it last night! Not everything has to have a meaning, people), got out my knife, and sat down on my floor.

So I started with Jamiesons as she sent me a package first. And I opened it and immediately rushed to the bathroom and washed my face with a delicious facewash. It was fabulous. I’m pretty sure I got off 6 months of grease and oil that my regular soap just couldn’t deal with. Then I immediately applied zit cream in the hopes that my sudden 29 year old acne might go away before my 30^th birthday. I mean seriously people, I haven’t had acne like this since high school. Ridiculous. Afterwards I shoveled in a handful of M&M’s, let out an amazed sigh in sudden remembrance of what good chocolate tastes like, and read her awesomely hilarious letter, and I quote:

“We were at a conference in Lexington earlier this week. We had tours of farms and whatnot. One of the highlights, I shit you not, was watching the breeding of thoroughbred horses at a fancy farm (Big Brown, winner of the ’08 Kentucky Derby is there). So, in essence, we traveled cross country to watch animals do it.”

Oh my god, I almost spit out my M&Ms laughing!!! I didn’t thank god, thus thwarting the damn little sugar ants that plague my life. You crack me up Jamie. I hope one day when I’m all growed up with a PhD I can travel cross country to watch animals do it, too.

So then I moved on to Grandma because her package looked like it had been through the war of independence between the Central American countries and Mexico. The first thing I encountered when I opened that package was the 5^th and 6^th Harry Potter books. I have no idea what moment of idiocy prompted me to leave those books at home, but I let out a ridiculous squeal of glee when I saw them. And thus I was a little more complete. I was told by other volunteers that people who go to the islands should be prepared to read their books at least 80 times. I think I have already read the HP books 80 times….

Anyway, so then I encountered a giant jar of crunchy Peter Pan Peanut Butter. I almost popped that puppy open to dig out a mouthful of the crunchy peanut buttery goodness with my bare fingers. But I decided to wait until dinner since I already had eaten half a bag of M&Ms. After that thought, I had to convince myself that I didn’t want to get a spoonful of peanut butter and then stick M&M’s all over it and eat it in one giant NOM NOM NOM. But I didn’t as to conserve my limited M&M supply. Would have been delicious thought…. Maybe later.

Then I noticed a conspicuous lavender box at the bottom of the package. I opened it up and HOLY FLAVOR HEAVEN, BATMAN! Grandma sent me spices including the elusive oregano and basil which apparently are like, illegal in Honduras or something since nobody seems to use them. There’s even a TOWN near here CALLED “Plan de Oregano” and do they have oregano? NO! They have mangoes, corn, and beans! So why isn’t it called like, MACOBE or something? Why the lies, Honduras? Oh, I’m so excited. I’m going to make spaghetti and make my neighbors eat some so they can taste how unnecessary sugar, ketchup, AND hotdogs are in Italian food.

So then I moved on to the package from Tara and Andy. Why? Because it was the closest. So this package started with a fantastic FSU baseball hat that curiously was navy blue thus giving me the odd sense that Tara was trying to remind me that my masters is from FSU even though I worked at UF. Or because she knows that I like blue. Whatever.

After that the first thing that caught my eye was a bright pink box. This box contained “Pretty in Pink” earplugs. This was rather fabulous. I mean, I asked for ear plugs and to get fluorescent pink ones was fantastically awesome. I mean seriously, I will actually be pretty in pink when I am sleeping. Who could ask for more?

Then I noticed a little box that I knew had mala beads in them and as soon as I opened the box I smelled the wonderful smell of hippie incense. Totally reminded me of home because I burn that shit like it’s going out of style in my house and I have been pining for some here (That’s right, I said pining. Yes, I am secretly an 80 year old lady who uses words like “pining” and “diverting.” And someday somebody will find that cute. Although that means I will probably meet the love of my life in my retirement home…) Anyway, so major kudos, Tara, for finding malas that not only were free trade, but also were from Tibet. Nicely done! Major tree hugger hippie points awarded on your behalf! Plus, they will help me to maintain a good attitude by taking some time in the morning to meditate. I’m going to meditate so awesome that my acne will be meditated right off my face.

Then I saw Harry Potter books 1-4 and I let out a sigh of happiness. Although I have not yet seen the latest movie which mars my previously untarnished record of getting every book (other than the 1^st) and watching every movie on the day of release. Sigh. But, I am told that I will probably scream at the screen like I did at the end of “The Golden Compass” when I yelled “THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENS!!!!! THAT’S NOT THE END OF THE BOOK!” and then realize that I just screamed in a theatre full of people. I have diminished hopes for the movie. Vamos a ver (we shall see).

And, since Tara told me she couldn’t find my copy of The Alchemist I was duly pleased to find it in the package! My favorite book ever that I am totally going to make people here read. Plus it totally helps me keep the journey in perspective. Read it if you haven’t. It’s a quick, amazing read.

AND, I got MORE CHOCOLATE which my nieces, apparently, picked out that was AWESOME! They were bars of dove and are now residing in my 6” x 2” freezer, and also some Hersheys. You people are awesome.

The next amazing part was a story from my eldest niece that was pretty much beyond adorable and was like reading an 8 year olds (now 9 year olds) version of “A Life Aquatic.” Let’s just say the highlights included the:

• Goblin Shark
• Cookie Cutter Shark
• Oar Fish
• Crab as big as a mini-sub (that’s big)

The last most amazing part of the package was underwear that I requested. And yes, next time I will be more specific in the kinds of underwear I request…. My favorites were those that came with notes attached:

• Picking out underwear for other people is harder than I thought!
• I chose these in case you met the perfect girl. Everyone needs sexy black panties! (So true Tara! Good form, good form! Way to look out for your single kin!).
• I bought these because I couldn’t stop laughing thinking of you washing them in a “riva” with 12 Hondurans watching you (you can only imagine what these looked like…).

So now I can get rid of the embarrassingly holey and ratty ones that have suffered from 6 months of hand washing and replace them with embarrassingly lacey and skimpy ones that have recently arrived to grace my derriere. I love packages!

Moving on! Twas like Christmas in August. Of course, mainly because some of these packages, like Jamies, has been sitting in the PC office for 6 weeks. Thank you very much Zalaya and Michiletti.

Anyhoo, so next was Mom’s package because I knew she sent me underwear and I was curious how hers compared to Tara’s scandalous shopping spree. First thing were some new books to read! Thank God because I have lately been dreaming about Elves because I have read all of my books and only had 6 books Andy gave me left which were all about Elves and such. And dreaming about Elves is just confusing since I now equate Orlando Bloom with Elves and Orlando Bloom, though oddly effeminate as an elf, is still a dude.

But I digress (shocking, I know). So then I saw 4 bars of the most amazing soap in the whole wide world. The Amazing Dr. Bronners soap whose package resembles those from the 1800’s and is packed with information such as: “Certified Fair Trade Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soaps. All-One Hemp LAVENDER PURE-CASTILE SOAP made with Organic Oils. Emmanuel Bronner, a third-generation German-Jewish master soapmaker, brought the family’s Old World soap recipes to the US in the late 1920’s (and they haven’t changed the packaging since) and established what has become the top-selling natural brand of liquid and bar soaps in America. In addition to producing an exceptional lather and a smooth afterfeel, our soaps support fair trade, organic agriculture and a healthy environment!” I mean really people, who DOESN’T want an exceptional lather and a smooth afterfeel? I know I sure do! Especially since this soap is guilt free and my water drains right into the creek below. Nice. Usually this soap is covered in bible verses but there just isn’t the space on the bars. Only the liquid. So if you want an exceptional lather, a smooth afterfeel, AND some Jesus, I recommend the liquid.

So I have to give Mom mad tree-hugger props for also going out on a limb (no pun intended) to get me some hippie soap! HA! Two Republicans both had to, at some point, enter a totally hippie store to buy me the things I asked for. THAT is love, people. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Good job, Mom and Tara. 10 points each for bleeding-heart-tree-hugging-love and for purchasing from someone I imagine to have facial piercings, visible tattoos, multi-colored hair, and a generally pouty demeanor!

I must ask however, mom, where in the world did you get the flamingo hat? It is very… bright. It shall be my new survey hat because it is too fabulously 1995 not to be worn.

Anyhoo, so then I noticed an abundance of socks both professional looking and the white tube socks that will be awesome on water surveys. That is nice because I, for some reason (called packing at 9pm the night before you leave), only packed like 8 pairs of socks. That was kind of stupid. And I summarily lost several single socks so now my sock wearing week goes thusly:

• Sunday: SHIT! I’m out of socks. Guess I should do laundry.
• Monday: SHIT! My socks are all still wet. Hmmm. I wonder if these socks from Saturday are too rank to wear. (*sniff*) Nah, they are fine.
• Tuesday: Pair of white socks!
• Wednesday: Pair of grey socks!
• Thursday: Pair of white socks!
• Friday: Hmmm. Can’t seem to find a matching pair of socks. Oh well, one grey, one white!
• Saturday: Hmmm. One black sock with an elephant on the side and one multi-colored striped sock! Eh, whatever. I’m wearing pants anyway.
• Sunday: SHIT! I’m out of socks. Guess I should do laundry.

Next, I saw a delicious bag of chocolate! You would think by now that seeing chocolate in my package was less exciting since I have received chocolate in every package. If you think this, you clearly have never met me. Hi, I’m Becky if you are from the states. Rebecca if from Honduras. Beckis (pronounced Beh-kees) if you are a Honduran who was introduced to me by an American. Rebecky if you are my host brother who thinks Gotham City is real. Rebe if you are a Honduran calling me Rebecca for short. Or just REJOWI. I’m a bit on the chubby side, mainly due to my love for sweet things. Getting chocolate and/or Peanut Butter in the mail is the 2^nd most exciting thing that could happen to me. We should hang some time! Bring brownies. I live arriba by the green store that is actually a green store.

Next was a bag of cheese. Well actually, it was a lovely gouda in a Ziploc bag. The bag was pretty heinous so kudos mom, for putting the cheese in a plastic bag. The wax melted just a tad but the cheese seems fully intact and is now in my refrigerator waiting to be scavenged like I’m a kid home from fat camp.

Mom also sent me astringent which was fantastic because astringent and face wash are amazingly expensive here. Like ridiculously expensive.

Oh, and a lavender reed infuser. THANK GOD. My bathroom is an anomaly. The dude before me, being a single dude, left a bathroom behind that was not pleasant. So I scrubbed it down with Comet, then bleached it a day later, than bleached it again a third day. And now I am willing to use my bathroom and shower in it. But it still has a lingering… something. Like a troll is sleeping behind my toilet. So I bought Glade Lavender air spray. And it smells like bad men’s cologne. I think they got the label for “Glade Lavender” mixed up with the label for “Glade Burly Manly Man.” So hopefully mom’s infuser will convince the troll to go sleep in another apartment and not mine, AND will smell better than a greasy man with hairs poking out of his unbuttoned shirt’s cheap cologne.

And lastly mom sent me more underwear which were much more humble than the others I got (thus can be hung on my line with minimal embarrassment), but very nice, I must admit. Good job mom! I’m not going to lie, I was picturing my days of youth with granny panties halfway up my rib cage. I should have known better to doubt you! Very lovely shopping at V.S.

Excuse me, I must go wash my cheese hands with my new vegan eco-friendly soap. Which one… lavender, tea tree, citrus, or almond….

Okay I’m back and on to Kelly and Mortimus. So, I opened this package and first saw… PEANUTS! Which is cool because I was looking for peanuts for an art project. HA! Unintentional gift!

Then I pull out this magnificent plastic bag FULL of books! And the funny thing is that I almost had bought several of those books at Borders. So now I have enough reading material for about another 2 weeks if I am not busy, or 2 months if I am busy. I love books. And after I read them I shall share them with other volunteers.

Then I noticed a large green square and pulled it out and it was a huge wax covered hunk of Dubliner cheese sitting next to a box of Triscuits. I’m going to have the best dinner ever of cheese and triscuits and then a desert of spoonfuls of peanut butter laden with M&Ms. I may eat a spoonful of basil just to spite Honduras. Anyhoo, I then washed off the cheese because again, the wax melted a bit, and it is now residing in my fridge just waiting for the right moment of savoring. Oh you will be savored, you gorgeous little hunk of deliciousness. Just you wait.

AND last but not least. A huge bar of 89% cocoa Ghiardelli chocolate. Ode to the Gods.

Oh people, what a fantastic day. THANK YOU all so very much!!! I appreciate the wonderful tastes of home, the reading material, clean and soon acne free skin, and new unmentionables to shock my neighbors. Your packages have totally lifted my spirits and I miss you all very very much!!!!

With much love and a face stuffed full of America (and a bit of Ireland).

Rebecca, Rebe, Rebecky, Beckis, Becky, and REJOWI, signing off.

NOM NOM NOM!!!!!!