Los Hijos Sotos

I’m finally here for my Community Scholars project to work with HIV/AIDS infrastructure and the Honduran Red Cross. The flights on the way were uneventful enough, I managed to secure aisle seats all the way down which, of course given my neurotic nature, was a plus.

Kap, Andy, and Mike, and myself (they’re the 3 other scholars I’m with) all decided that Miami, given it’s linguistic culture, cannot actually be a part of the United States. Those of you who have been there will agree that it is substantially different really than most other places in the country. I carried some food to her table because she couldn’t carry it all herself and in the intermittant period heard a British woman complain that Miami simply would not do for New Years because nobody in this (expletive) town spoke any English at all. In any event, however, we made it to San Pedro Sula and then on, vis a vis tiny prop plane, to La Ceiba.

Upon our arrival we were, of necessity because of changed flight schedules, not met by our point person and also, of equal necessity, not met by our luggage. I swear this is the third of my past four times in the year 2008 out of the country that I have not been met by my luggage upon arrival. All three of these times have been service trips. While writing this now, at the local internet cafe about a 10 minute walk from my homestay, I still do not have my luggage, but I do have hopes that I will be able to shower soon enough.

Initially I was regretting this trip, the time it would take out of my break and what it would mean for relationships, including familial ones, already neglected because of my hectic schedule while at school and constant giddyness while at home. While I still believe that two weeks may be more than sufficient to accomplish the stated ends of this trip, flying over the rainforests of Honduras before our landing in San Pedro Sula, towards the north of the country, reaffirmed a deepseated understanding that I suppose we all get some times that I needed to be here, in this place, at, I suppose, this moment.

The way the greens meld and how, even at an altitude, the trees seemed vaguely sharp and distinct from one another is a fascinating scene. The smoke that penetrates the air from fires that surround snaking rivers outside the airplane windows. Not the warmth, in general, but the air. The air that is, for our part, oceanic and tropic.

We were lucky enough to avoid many of the storm ridges brewing over La Ceiba while flying in, with only a brief period of extremely noticeable turbulence. Though not typically affected by such things, I find that it was the constant perpetuance of a gasoline smell in the cabin which made for truly naseous voyage from San Pedro to La Ceiba.

Some time after arriving we were met in a white minivan by Maria, our contact for these past two days as Manuel, our main contact esta muy enferma. She drove us from the airport past all of the westernized businesses (dunken doughnuts, pizza hut) to Colonia El Sauce, the region of the city in the south that we will be staying in. We dropped Andy and Matt off at their homestay at the Lamoths and Maria continued on to bring Mike and I to the Sotos, two retired school teachers who will be our homestay parents throughout the duration of our stay here. Chepita, the esposa, owns a catering company which operates out of the casa. For our part, Mike and I are enormously excited about the possibility for splendid alimentos during our stay.

We ate dinner and managed a good conversation with Rafael (I believe that’s his name) who is the husband and whose daughter schools in Utah, where he spent last summer. Both of them are retired school teachers and it is interesting to find that both of them taught “grammer and letters.” I tried to explain that, being a linguistics major I took a great deal of classes in grammar, but I could not quite convey the term or its meaning upon him. Mike and I find that, although we cannot articulate what we would like to normally (this is especially apparent in our givings of thanks) we have absolutely no trouble communicating with the family or with any of the people we have met thus far, especially in the form of understanding what it is they have to say.

We crashed relatively early enough around nine and Mike and I slept, after watching a round of English Jeopardy in our small, but private, room, until 7 in the morning. A rousing breakfast of cornflakes, toast, and an apple (which, though being fresh fruit I nevertheless consumed out of common courtesy) and then we waited outside for Maria. After some time she showed up and we were given a walking tutorial of the city. It is, first and foremost, a loud place. I find all these places I have visited to be. Incredibly loud with life in all it’s forms, most accutely with honking. Always honking, as if the horn were a way of conveying very precise and minute details with regard to a persons emotions at that given instant. As if the way you land your hand on the horn, ever so lightly with ginger disregard or with strict and punishing force could convey what you meant by what honk. To us, however, they all sound the same, they are noise.

We walked past the municipal building and Iglesia Catolico (both built by Dole corp) and down all the way to the playa where there are many, to quote Maria, drogas. I suppose that during the duration of our stay we will be picky in determining where to hangout and which bars to frequent so that we don’t get mugged, which Maria has suggested to us is a distinct possibility at all times. After this we walked past the residences and offices of Dole Corp. This corporation (formerly Standard Fruit Co) seems to be the paradigm of Western Imperialism in my mind here. It is so saturated into the town I cannot even describe, and the schism between those who benefit from it’s services and good grace and those who do not is surely quite staggering.

We were informed after visiting the mall down the street that we would throw a party at the orphanage on Friday and that is when our service would begin. Because of the New Years celebrations everything here is closed until at least viernes.

For New Years, we have visited a travel agent and the four of us will be spending it deep sea snorkling off an island to the North. We will spend the day on the island doing this as well as hiking around. It is supposed to be very beautiful and in this place it seems an appropriate venue for expatriots who wish to do something of interest during the holiday of La Ceiba.

We walked back to the home and ate lunch and then Mike and I siesta’d…for a whole 3 hours. We were awoken by Matt and Andy and all decided to head back to the beach to the Hotel Quinta Real, which is the nicest hotel in the city, for a few drinks (it is, afterall, New Years Eve) before meeting our dinner curfew at 7. I really don’t know what the host families have in store for tonight, and though we are anxious for tomorrows adventure it is the general consensus that we are also ready to begin what it is that we came here to do.

I for one, am ready for a shower. And after that, I suppose, we can get our hands dirty again with other things.