So we've reached the 2.5 week mark. I have settled into things pretty well (I think...) and apart from the occassional difficulties that come with not being fluent in the local language, it's going really well. A girl from North Carolina came down the week after me. She has moved into the apartment down the hall, and she is teaching the science courses I was going to be doing before I got bumped up to chemistry. Not only is it nice to have a neighbor who is fluent in English and in a similar situation as myself (she doesn't speak much Spanish, nor does she know anyone down here), her arrival helped me see how much I had adjusted to life down in the Honduras thus far.

This weekend I was blessed enough to be able to come to Georgia for a cousin's wedding (CONGRATULATIONS CHRISTIE AND REID!!!!!!) Not only was this a wonderful opportunity for me to soak up time with my family, I was able to relish in some of the simple pleasures that one doesn't get to partake of in a third world country:


HOT SHOWERS
Although this may sound like a bold claim, I am willing to state that heaven probably feels like a lukewarm shower after running around all day in 90+ degree temperatures. It is more refreshing than a cool breeze through the open window of your un-air-conditioned car during 5:00 rush hour on Central Expressway. Those of you who were able to experience that joy with me may find this impossible, but believe it. As a person who normally enjoys turning her bathroom into a sauna during shower time, I never thought I would say that I would enjoy a lukewarm shower. But although it has become a very enjoyable part of my daily routine, there is still something to be said about a ridiculously steaming hot shower. I don't think there are hot water heaters in Honduras, even in very wealthy homes. In order to get hot water to do my dishes, I have to boil water on the stove. And in order to heat my shower water from cold to lukewarm, I have a state-of-the-art electric shower head.

I don't think it is quite as glorious as the one Anne got to experience in Guatemala. But something about bathing in water that is shooting past exposed wires really gets me going each morning. At the top of the shower head is a switch that allows you to choose the water temperature. The choices are cold, sort of cold, and lukewarm. In a moment of daring, I messed with the switch one day. The result was really cold water and a sizzling sound that has discouraged me from any further water temperature experimentation. I am still curious about what the little tail thingy at the bottom of the shower head is, but I haven't quite picked up the courage to mess with it...yet. I will keep you posted.




MILK


This picture, along with many like it (why must you love milk, Chris?!) have been a stumbling block for me these past couple weeks. I casually browse pictures of family and friends, and I am repeatedly bombarded with pictures of Chris chugging milk. Cold, delicious milk. Electricity is very expensive, and refrigerators are an additional expensive luxury down here. So there are many people who have neither. In order to provide milk to the entire population, something is done to this marvelous liquid that allows it to be stored unrefrigerated. I don't know exactly what this process is called, or what all it entails. What I do know is that the end result is a nasty, putrid beverage in a blue cardboard box. I have had a difficult time finding uses for it. It can be used in cooking without compromising the integrity of the dish. At least in pancakes and mashed potatoes. Not that those dishes have a whole lot of complexity. And it gives an interesting, kind of nutty after taste if you use just a little in your coffee. My dad insists that it doesn't taste too bad if you get it cold enough, but I don't think I'm willing to experiment enough to find the appropriate level of cold that will negate the grossness. PriceSmart sells cases of soymilk, which is a tasty milk alternative. However, at the end of the day, sometimes a girl just wants some lactose. And looking at pictures of friends guzzling it down makes me feel a burning, jealous sensation I never thought I would feel about an animal by-product.



TAP WATER
Yes, folks. This weekend, every time I brushed my teeth I rinsed my toothbrush off with tap water. When I went out to restaurants I ordered water, knowing it came from a tap, and I was able to boldly consume it without fearing severe gastrointestinal consequences. Ice isn't bad here. At least the ice that I have tried. Our first full day here I unwittingly turned Dad and I into guinea pigs to test the effects of ice from PriceSmart on the American bowel. It was sheerly out of force of habit that I filled our cups with ice at the soda fountain. He didn't look super excited when he took a sip of his drink and discovered ice from unknown origins in his cup. But I haven't gotten sick yet, and I don't think he did, either...so...at least we know that ice from PriceSmart is made from filtered water. And knowing is half the battle.

Tomorrow I will take you on a photo tour of my apartment building. And I will bring my camera to school, too, so there will soon be pictures of what my room looks like, and the campus for those who haven't seen pictures of it yet. Tomorrow is the first day with students, but not the first day of classes. There are a lot of changes at the school this year, so we are spending the first two days with our homeroom class discussing all the changes and giving them a chance to adjust before jumping into academia. We'll see how it goes. :)


To address some questions and comments:

There is a taxi that takes two other teachers and myself to and from school. The driver's name is John, and he is really nice. I like to refer to him as my driver, because it makes me feel fancy and important. If I need to go someplace outside of work that is too far to walk to, I give him a call. There are many taxi companies, but something I learned pretty quickly is...addresses don't mean much here. Everything is done by landmarks. There are very few street signs, and the majority of the ones I have seen are too covered in graffiti to be legible. So...if I were to call a taxi, I have to give them directions using landmarks (which I'm not very familiar with yet) instead of street names (which I'm not very familiar with yet, anyhow, so it doesn't really matter). The major landmark that I use is called El Palenque. It doesn't exist anymore, but it used to be an arena for cock fights before they became less popular. And I think illegal. If I call a cab, the first thing I ask is if they know where El Palenque is. If they say yes, I give them directions. If they say no, I stutter a little before I hang up the phone, because I don't know what to say to them yet. It is really just easier to call John. There are a couple mini-supermarkets, a laundromat, pool hall, restaurant, gym, some pulperias (convenience stores, kind of, minus gas pumps) and a drug store within walking distance of my apartment. Anything else requires use of a taxi. I will take you guys on a tour of my neighborhood soon as well.

Mama- Yo sólo compro pollo sin zapatos, porque tiene mejor sabor. :)

John- I'm sorry...I don't speak Spanish. I LOVE THAT MOVIE! Are you copying down subtitles?

JJ (and anyone else curious)- My mom asked me if I buy my chicken without the shoes. She and my dad used to live in Spain, and every time she bought chicken at the butcher he would take a whole chicken, chop off the head and feet, and then wrap it up in a little package. This didn't do much to encourage her appetite, but she didn't speak Spanish, so she asked a friend how to get just the body. Her friend told her to order "pollo sin cabeza y sin pies". Mom got mixed up, and ordered her chicken "sin zapatos", which means without shoes. I find that chicken without the shoes has better flavor...