So I’ve been here almost two months now, and I would say the
adjusting definitely isn’t over yet (and probably won’t be until I can speak
Spanish). However, I have learned a lot, and it’s definitely been a growing
experience thus far. I know I haven’t updated my blog in a while, and for that
apologize. Whenever I first got here it took a couple of weeks before I had
internet, and during that time, I had so many ideas to blog about, and now it’s
hard to pick just one.
So I guess I’ll start from the beginning, and then at some
point I’ll probably skip ahead and around a bit, so I hope I don’t bore you to
death or lose your interest at any point.
I’ve never been the kind of person who talks about how
family is the most important thing in my life… Now, it’s not that family isn’t
the most important thing in my life, it definitely is, but you know there are
those people who really talk about it all the time and who talk as if it is
something that really defines them as a person, and I’ve just never really been
one of those people. However, only a month before leaving, I watched my sister
get married, and I saw my immediate family grow from 4 to 5. It’s a special
thing really-- to see your family transform in that way. It’s something that
makes you see your family in whole new way, and it’s not as if they’re new
people, but in a way, they are.
See, I’ve always thought of my family in terms of its
separate parts—my father, my mother, and my older sister. All separate people--
all individuals with very unique qualities, talents, and personalities, all
whom I appreciate for different reasons and who I have very distinct
relationships with. However, as I watched my family grow, I understood for the
first time that we aren’t really separate at all. No matter where each of us is
in the world or in the different stages of our lives, we all carry each other
with us, and as my mother and I cried watching my father walk my sister down
the aisle, I thought to myself, “How lucky I must be to have carried these
people with me my whole life, and how lucky I must be to have another special
person to carry.”
A month later, I found myself saying goodbye to them.
Unfortunately, Mary Alex and Peyton could not come to the airport to see me
off, but both of my parents were there. I had imagined this moment for a long
time. When I pictured the event, I was standing there—hugging them goodbye,
trying not to think about what this moment really meant, and reminding myself
not to cry. I thought, “You can cry later, but for your parents’ sake, and for
these nice airport people, you should really keep it together.” Needless to
say, this is not what happened.
Saying goodbye to them that morning was the hardest thing
that I’ve ever had to face—which probably says more about how great my life has
been thus far than it does about how difficult it really was. I crossed through
security with tears streaming down my face, hoping my parents wouldn’t see me and
apologizing to all of the people in the security line. I really began questioning the decision I was
making and wondering why I would ever want to do something like this. Each
moment was a battle between telling myself that this is something I really
needed to do and that it wasn’t too late to turn around and go home.
Obviously, I made it to Honduras in one piece, and by the
grace of God, I sat next to a girl on the plane to San Pedro Sula that was
about to do the same thing, and she reassured me that Honduras was a beautiful
country that I would fall in love with.
When I made it to San Pedro Sula, the principal’s son was waiting to
pick me up with a sign that said “Emelie Street” – a creative yet incorrect interpretation of my
name. However, I was grateful for the effort.
Despite being the incessant
talker I am in most awkward social situations, I struggled to make
conversation. He spoke pretty good English, but I was tired, emotionally
drained, and I wasn’t really sure whether or not we shared the same conventional
conversation points. (In general, conversation has been a struggle. Immediately
after arriving I realized how often I use sarcasm to break the ice, and how
much harder it is to make a clever joke when no one shares the same first
language.)
On the car ride to Tela, I mostly slept and stared out the
window wishing that I could find it in me to make conversation, but at the same
time, hoping that no one would notice my silence (the typical inner battle for
a tired, moody extrovert). These people had been so kind to me-- they took me to lunch, they bought me groceries, but as much as I wanted to use that time to get to know them, I knew that it wouldn't be genuine, and I didn't want to start off on the wrong foot. Plus, I think Americans are really chatty, and that's not something the rest of the world necessarily shares, or at least, that's what I told myself. However,
after two hours of sparse conversation, we made it here, and I was introduced
to my new home for the next year.
I would just like to
note that from this point forward, I found it extremely difficult condense 2
months worth of information into a concise entry that would not lose your
interest. (Of course, it is my own fault for waiting two months to post
something.) Because of this, I jump around a lot and cover various topics. I
added numbering to make it easier to follow. Forgive me for any confusion.
After my arrival, I quickly learned some unique things about
the culture here:
1. Within the first day, I learned that the food is
super delicious and the beach is beautiful. Though I miss Pick Thai and Aladdin
(my Thai food and Mediterranean favorites), the food here has certainly proved
to be an adequate replacement. I could eat seafood soup while sitting by the
beach every single day, and I probably still wouldn’t have done it enough.
2.
Secondly, things in Honduras move a lot slower.
Mississippi isn’t slow enough for you? Well then, head on over to Honduras.
Just kidding (sort of). In reality, it’s not slow in the same way. See
Mississippi is slow to change—at least for the developed world. Additionally, it’s
been said that people in Mississippi walk slower and talk slower—however, Mississippians
still have a sense of urgency that is often associated with American
culture—for the most part, we’re always in a hurry, and deadlines are
deadlines. And honestly, I think it’s one of those things that you don’t really
notice until you’re taken out of that environment. Time is just perceived so
much differently. It’s not that there is no regard for deadlines in Honduras;
however, that sense of urgency and anxiety that seems second nature to us in
the United States just isn’t as prevalent here. I realized that the
inefficiencies I often make a big deal about in the U.S. really aren’t a big
deal at all, and I’ve learned to brush my shoulders off before I make a fuss
over something that honestly doesn’t matter much.
3.
Third, Tela (I’m not speaking for all of
Honduras) is much safer than I assumed it would be. In the first month, I was
very cautious about the clothes I wore, where I walked, where I left my bike,
and what time of day I left my apartment. I’m still cognizant of those things,
but since then, I’ve become far more comfortable biking home as it gets dark
and leaving my bike unattended as I pop into a store or restaurant to buy
something.
4.
Finally, perceptions of wealth are MUCH
different than I expected them to be. While I’ve always felt privileged to own
nice things, I’ve never considered myself rich. Well off, financially
comfortable, sure, but not rich. I was discussing perceptions of wealth in the
U.S. with one of my good friends the other day, and we talked about how our
idea of wealth is if you can walk into a store and pick out and purchase the
things you want without ever looking at a price tag—funny how I know many
people who actually enjoy that pleasure—Personally, I always look at the price
tag. However, here in Honduras, because I own an iPhone, a MacBook and a pair
of RayBans, I am the cream of the crop. To be fair, I obviously understood that
I would have more money than your average Honduran; however, many of my
students come from some of the wealthiest families in the area, and they
frequently point out how rich I must be.
I’ve also learned a few things about myself, and picked up a
few hobbies along the way:
1.
First of all, I love teaching much more than I
thought I would. It’s been hard, getting into the swing of teaching with very
little previous knowledge of HOW to teach, but it’s been an interesting
adventure, and I think I’m starting to get the hang of it (maybe, probably
not). I think I’ve learned how to
balance being mean with being cool (maybe, but again, probably not). Also, I
think I’ve learned how to appreciate simply observing other people’s joy. See,
I have recess duty, so I typically sit on the concrete bleachers in the court
area and watch the students play soccer or volleyball (which, surprisingly, is
their favorite sport). Typically, I observe the students and reminisce about how
it felt to be in high school—remembering old friends, different friend groups,
and the different roles everyone played. Instead of feeling jealous, I’ve
learned to observe the students and feel a sense of contentedness knowing that
these are some of the best days of their lives, even if they don’t recognize it
themselves.
2.
Additionally, I started going to a free aerobics class that one of the
teachers from my school instructs almost everyday. After a couple of weeks, she
invited me to come on the stage with her (she thinks I’m really coordinated
which is honestly amazing to me), and now she has me learning new dances to
help demonstrate for the class. I can honestly say that when I thought about
what my experience would be like in Honduras, the thought that I would be
helping instruct an aerobics class never crossed my mind. Nevertheless, I am
there everyday, and in many ways, I find it just as rewarding as teaching.
3.
Finally, every Friday afternoon, I go get 3
baleadas (probably each about the size of your average Mexican restaurant
quesadilla), a large bottled water, and a beer for less than $4. (I’ve also decided that Oxford, MS might as well be the most expensive city in the world
compared to Tela, Honduras.) It’s a ritual I’ve adopted to bring some normalcy
into my life and to ensure that I remain true to my youth by having at least
one beer per weekend… I also try to watch the Rebels play, but that’s always a
little bit trickier.
There you go—that’s two months worth of life lessons and new
hobbies, and there are more to come! I promise to be better about updates, and
I promise to be more concise. I’m aiming for one every 1-2 weeks—probably
Tuesdays or Wednesdays when I have less to do.
POSTING PICTURES SOON!
