Home Sweet Home

Sorry if this title was deceiving; I am NOT back home in Texas.  But some other teachers and friends and I are working on a project that will redefine the word "home" for a family here in Roatan.  My roomie, friend, and fellow teacher, Harrison, is going on his second year here in Roatan.  Last year he and the other teachers established a relationship with a family here on the island.  Two of the daughters sell doughnuts on the streets of Los Fuertes, a small, poor town here, and that is actually how they came to meet the teachers.

This family has a very modest and suppressed means of survival.  There are a total of 8 children and two parents living together.  They also take care of another young teenage girl and her infant son.  In total eleven people live under one small roof.  The roof has numerous holes, the walls are made of mud, sticks and a hodgepodge of scrap wood, and the floor is the earth that it sits on.  A while back the father approached Harrison asking for help getting money and resources to lay cement on the ground, cuz every bit of rain (especially during hurricane season) washes out the floor of their house.  Through prayer and sharing this request with others God has made it possible for this family to receive a great deal more than cement. We have entitled our fundraising efforts, in fact, "More than Cement."  It is an awesome surpirse and blessing for this humble and caring family.

Front entrance

Under one roof.

The mother on the right excited at the prospect of a new house

In the kitchen.

Running around the house

We are partnering with an organization called Dwellings.  This organization acts as an intermediary to help raise funds, gather resources, and recruit people to give needy and deserving families a safe and functional place to live.  Our goal is to raise $9,500.  The littlest bit can help immensely.  If 475 people each gave just $20, that would cover our goal.  Below is the link for making donations.    Through that link you can also find info about Dwellings.  Feel free to holler at me if you have any questions.  We don't have an exact date for breaking ground on construction, but it should be somewhere around late February or early March when we begin if you or a group or someone you know want's to help build with us!

Click here to make DONATIONS!!

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Sic 'Em!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's to all my boys in Green and Gold.  I enjoyed listening to the radio coverage online while watchin ESPN Gamecast.  Thank you Jeff Richards for showing me the light. 

Oklahoma State, we have you in our sights..... 

up the middle...all day baby

RG Me

Cheat with the facemask if you must; we will still prevail!

:')

yes sir.

21 hours o' fun.

After our successful Mayan time machine adventure and the most legit platano-relleno lunch I’ve ever experienced, we made our way to find the horses. My horse had the same name as another horse so I gave him a new name: Snickerdoodle. Seemed like an appropriate horse name; just like "Scribbles" fits as a name for a cat. The stirrups on my horse were cupped and not open, so the front half of my foot was enclosed. Problem: I was wearing chaco’s and the inside of the stirrup was rubbing on my toes like crazy.  I was about ot put the picture on here but opted against it for all of you with a weak stomach.




Harry's tacitos at lunch....insufficient.




"Lemme lemme upgrade ya!"  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Jubz1Ini-o




We crossed the river and went to the top of this mountain where ancestors to the Mayans still live. My horse was a wee bit older than the rest and felt much more comfortable in the back of the pack. He needed a good kick just to get in a trot thought : /. Not much kickin going on with my chaco heels and throbbing toes. Eventually I asked one of the guides for his lanyard whip and that got Snickerdoodle’s attention. On the way back down I finally got him to pass the other horses (which felt like passing a car in a close knit Nascar race since the girls weren’t aware I was trying to pass and thus spanned the width of the trail). With the whip in hand I got him galloping, but I ended up whipping myself in the arm. I didn’t even feel it since all of the nerve endings in my toes were drawing a lot of my brain’s attention, but I had a nice little mark on my arm afterwards. Galloping was so freaking refreshing and trotting the whole time. Tear em lose and soak up the wind and rain….and dodge the low banches.

At First it was cute, and then you get swarmed by little children shoving decorated corn husks in your face.  "Compreme, veinte."

After disembarking my entre-piernas from the saddle of wood giving a brief knot tying lesson to the caballeros tying up the horses, we walked through some incredible rain back to the hostel and took some equally incredible showers. The water didn’t work the first night, so this was much better than retrieving bowls of water from a cistern to wash our feet. Harry, Kelly, and I went to go buy everyone’s bus tickets for the next day, so we were walking around with pockets full of passports and lempiras. A little unnerving at first. The bus station was closed so we decided to walk around and grab some street food. We met some other Americans and started walkin back to find the rest of the crew. We ran into them in the street (small town style) and commenced the night from there with a couple bars, watching performers try to sing English songs, and pretending to be Pirates with some local sugar cane rum. Arrrrrggg.

I walked around with Jess for a bit and almost fell asleep in the middle of the plaza (kinda like John fell asleep in front of the church during the Garifuna festival)

This is John; he sleeps anywhere.

After getting jolted up by Harry and John sneaking (“sneaking”) up on us, I got my second wind and made a pact with Jess and John that would stay up all night until our 5:15am bus. I was starting to struggle around 12:30am when it looked like our options to entertain ourselves were dwindling. I started to ask a tuk-tuk taxi driver how much he would charge for ME to drive his taxi. I thought he would budge, but to no avail. He then asked if we wanted to go to the discoteca…………DISCOTECA?!? We couldn’t even fathom how there could possibly be a discoteca in a city like Copan. That be like finding a rave party in Edna, TX or Backwoods, Alabama or Lincon, NE or Glacier Park, MT or Stillwater, OK. We doubted his use of the word “discoteca” but decided to let him take us there. He flew down the bumpy cobble stones in his three-wheeled beast! John and I high-fived each other reaching over the roof- we’re so cool. We pull up to the discoteca where it is clearly marked:

(Discotecta)

We begin to walk in and are told about a cover- 200Limps?! It’s only $10, but relative to everything else it is robbery. We ended up getting in for a little less and walked in to a dead bar. We were so drained emotionally after realizing this. We had been had!..or had we? I walk over to a discreet speakeasy-ish door and open it up and I think my hair blew back from the sound waves and energy that came from inside. The biggest smile came over my face as I rushed over to my P.I.C.’s and told them (almost out of breathe), “so…many…people!” They both, in unison, said, “No waaaay.” in a very dubious tone. Sho ‘nuff we walk to my secret entrance and find a dark basement area with brief glances of a faces and bodies moving as the disco lights hit them. We weave our way to the middle of the crowd and start gettin it crunk.

We ended up meeting the Americans that we saw earlier and partied it up with them the rest of the night and ended up sneaking into a pool. I found a little hatch and climbed down it (at 3am, mind you) and found a myriad of switches and levers for the pool pumps. I flip one switch and the pumps start flowin. I then turned on the heater and we were good to go. We swam around in our clothes for a while but had to leave before the water got even close to hot…shucks. We began our sopping wet and delirious trek back to the hotel and tried not to wake everyone up. As soon as we got back, the tiredness dropped on us like a 100lb blanket and John and I passed out sitting in chairs with our head on the table. We woke up 15 minutes later to the sound of everyone getting ready to leave- we packed up in 20 seconds and left for the bus.



Classic way to end the night.  Arrested for serenading at some hostel at 3am.



Gettin ready to charge.



My blog is {Mayan} "ruined"...

Starting the fourth week of classes up in here (up in here! up in here!). We just disembarked from a looong weekend trip. September 15th was Honduran Independence Day, so we had class off from then until now, the 20th. On Independence Day we had to get up at 4:30am to hop on a 5am bus to French Harbor and join in the parade festivities. Everyone dressed up in marching outfits, parade float costumes, and traditional regalia. After the long, hot walk in my slacks, dress shirt, and dress shoes we peeled off our schweaty attire, slapped on some more breathable threads, and made our way to the ferry for the mainland!

Lil' cadets with some last minute marching "focus"

From the parade within French Harbor (Kelly's pic)

Some parade onlookers

I just realized that this is actually a photo from a water taxi (not the ferry), but it takes 10 minutes to upload a photo, so deal.

We made a quick stop at the “mall” where I bought my second phone (first one was lost/jacked, RIP) and then we were on our way.

Speaking of RIP, my waterproof camera=dead…Sony digicam=almost dead. I think that Olympus will repair the waterproof camera for free (they did last time), but getting it sent there is quite a riddle seeing as how mail doesn’t truly exist here. So I am using the big-boy Nikon D-90 SLR for all my pics now and I have a helmet cam thingy that has an underwater housing that I will probably end up breaking as well. As long as nothing happens to the big-boy I won’t be too upset.

Anyways. The ferry is surprisingly efficient, on time, and comfortable. We took the smooth picturesque ride to La Ceiba which is the port city on the mainland. Granted most of us were zonked out, but the parts we were awake for were nice. We boat right by the little islands of Cayos Cochinos where my dad and his friends go every now and then to a friend’s house. Think of the island from Cast Away, but divided in size by 20, and that’s the size of Cayos Cochinos. Wiilllssoooonnnn!!!! (that’s for you, Mark McKendrick).

We (Harrison, Kelly, Erin, Jessica, Amber, John, and me) got off the boat and I waited in line to get my knife that I checked. This little Honduran man swindled (I keep wanting to spell that as “swendel” thanks to one Welden Johnston) his way in front of me. It happened again later and I began to notice a pattern suggesting a history of not using a line system. After getting everything together we made our way to a parents of a friend of a friend of friend’s house. Confusing. We barely knew these people or even the people that hooked us up with them, but This older couple took us in for the night and fed us. That kind of hospitality is definitely very Honduran/ Latin American.

Racing taxi's to the Butterfly Museum.

Cruisin through La Ceiba

From the house of the random yet amaxingly hospitable family with whom we stayed

After some fresh pasta and some rousing Spanish convo’s, we grudgingly agreed to go out on the town to this nightlife district. We ended up havin’ a good ‘ol time with some karaoke...I totally owned “Gangster’s Paradise.” When did we wake up the next day? You guessed it 4:30 a.m!!! AGAIN to catch a bus. I thought I would be super sneaky and sit in first class, but apparently that wasn’t a novel idea because they had bar going across the middle of the seat to make it impossibly uncomfortable. I sat there anyways and just crouched down below the bar. Needless to say I woke up in need of a chiropractor/massage.

Karaoke supreme!

The pre-5a.m. walk through some sketch backwoods and along the side of a highway on the way to catch our bus.

Leaving La Ceiba.

We had a layover in San Pedro Sula before heading to Copan, so we decided to head into town. We asked the taxi to take us to the mercado (market). Well…after 20 minutes of driving he pulls up to the super mercado (super market). FAIL. We went in anyways cuz we were too tired to conjugate Spanish verbs into the past-subjunctive. After the bus was able to drive through the protestors and people on strike, it arrived at the bus station and we vamoosed.

Layover in Hedman Alas bus station in San Pedro Sula (FYI: L to R: Erin, John, Harry, Kelly, Jess)

Boxcar children out side the bus station.  "I've read ALL your books!"

The ride to Copan did not permit sleeping due to the coiling mountain roads, but that was fine cuz it was more than picturesque.

yup.

Right about the time nausea was sneaking up on me, we were there. What an awesome town! Cobblestone roads all throughout (have I peaked your attention yet Whitney Walker?). The city is in the hills with streets and people and red tuk-tuks (tuk-tuk, trishaw, auto, rickshaw, autorick, bajaj, rick, tricycle, mototaxi, or baby taxi) going every which way. We had no plans before arriving and ended up getting herded towards a new hotel that only costs $5 per night! The cheapest hostel there was about $4-$4.50 per night, so this was a steal considering we had private rooms and bathrooms in a fresh new crib.

Crazy colors.

Entry way from within our "hostel."  It was more like a legit hotel!

Roof top sun bathing....wait, no...ACTUAL bathing since all it does is rain.

After climbing on the roof-slash-deck of our hotel and admiring being eye-level with the clouds that met halfway up the lush mountains, we decided that we would finally fulfill Harry’s need (need, not want) for some pizza. Yummy, cheap pizza and a beer made me forget where I was; I felt like I was back in Dallas eating at our ghetto pizza joint. We then wandered through the labyrinth-esque streets with our full stomachs and gravitated towards this gift shop – coffee shop combo. We looked around at the stupidly over priced souvenirs and pretended like we were going to buy something. You could go out in the street and buy the same thing for one tenth of the price- no exag. The coffee shop in the back gave this place some redeeming qualities. There was a mini library made from a hodgepodge of shaky shelves burdened with German self-help’s, romance novels, and “books” by hippies who made their one-and-done attempts at being an author. We admired a few….

Harry went to play soccer outside on the street with some kids and then we made our way towards a bar with some people we met while playing (trying) hacky sack in the street. We watched as this local chica tried to teach us how to do the “punta”, the local dance…pretty pro-voc-a-tiiive. We walked back home as we admired how chill (and chilly) Copan is. About that time when we were walking without wondering where we were wandering (sorry, had to have some alliteration in there) someone hit the switch and the city became pitch black. The power goes off prrrtty frequently here. We were blessed with some moonlight to help us finish the journey to our hotel which was already filled with lit candles by the time we got back. They have their post-power-outage routines down. Honestly, it looked really awesome with the candle glow…que romantic, no?
The power came on in the middle of the night to relieve us from our mild sweat and helped us sleep-in til an absurdly ridiculous 7am!!! Gettiiinnn crraaazzzyyy. It was our first non-pre-5a.m. in a while so we basked in the glory of waking up AFTER the sun being up. We walked back to the tourist trap souvenir shop cuz at least the coffee was reasonably priced. We used that as our headquarters to plan the day. It was honestly a little too much planning for my blood so I disappeared for wee bit. Out on the street I saw the taxi driver we met on the first day. He’s kind of a cowboy in his own right. He reeeaalllyy wanted us to come ride horses (and pay him for it) at his ranch. I was down, but wanted to find a better deal…sorry Juan Carlos.

Pre-excursion pow wow and pick-me-ups

By the time I met back up with the group they had decided on the Mayan ruins and finding a way to do some horseback riding- perfect. We had a successful walk: we ran into some children selling some crafts (we were later plagued by these children), got another view of the city, and found some horses. John was talking with the owner of these horses and managed to get me, him and Amber a little appetizer ride on the horses on the side of the street. I know mine was surprised by the sudden 100lb increase in weight from the typical Honduran.

Laying out the conditions of our agreement.

A true caballero.

Amber heckling the children to go from 20 limpiras to 15 limpiras.  Monetary translation: "What? One dollar? Let's make it $0.80, OK?"

The ruins were awesome. We got there right as this giant group of students got there. I was upset of the idea of these ruffians going in at the same time as us and ruining the camera shots and overall experience. Don’t you dare ruin my ruins….



Parascope up!


Turns out they were going in a little later, so we scooted in front of them and went straight in to the ruins. We were pretty much the only people there. It was awesome. See below…
 

Polly wanna snap a picture?

In an old dungeon/tomb/...latrine?

Ancient Mayan ball court.  The winning team gets the honor of being sacrificed.  We skipped that last part of the rules in our Mayan hackey sack tourny.

Long vines.  Caution: do not climb...not sturdy.

 More Copan stories to come....