Olanchito (July 3)

After sleeping for twelve hours, Tom and I awoke around 9:00am to about an hour of Honduran folk music playing loudly over the boom-box in the patio. A strange beeping sound, perhaps a security system, rang through the night, and it remains to be seen whether the same beeping will sound through every night. The heat was really not unbearable, although I certainly did not go under the covers while sleeping.

For breakfast, we were again asked what we wanted, and not having a preference we were given cornflakes and very cold milk (whole milk). They also brought us some sugar, which was slightly brown and coarse grained with excellent, fresh flavor. We spent most of the time between breakfast and lunch studying Spanish, which we must master, and then had a delicious lunch of baked chicken breast, sautéed onions, rice, and tortillas.

After lunch, we went out to explore the town. Our first stop was the elegant central park, with decorous trees, bushes, and flowers surrounding a small rotunda. Next to the park was an air-conditioned ATM, but I was unable to make a withdrawal because of some problem with my card. While leaving the park area, we passed a man named Aldo who was living in Honduras as a retiree after having gotten citizenship in the U.S. and living there for 36 years. We may play him in pool sometime.

About two blocks from our house on the corner with the main road, we got into a conversation with a street vendor named Ramón, who sells various freshly made fruit juices. He quickly assured us that he operates with purified water when making drinks, and we would certainly like to try some of the exotic fruit juices sometime. We talked with Ramón, alternating between English and Spanish, for at least thirty minutes. When we told him why we were in Honduras, he was quite glad for our mission to fix machines and train hospital staff. “I have heard that there is a problem here with [doctors and nurses] not knowing how to use the machines,” he said. He went on to tell us that he had gone to the States before, having toured especially the Florida Keys. When an older man sitting behind us, who had been talking to Ramón before we arrived, got up to go home, Ramón told us about him. “He’s an American, and the richest man in Olanchito. He’s nice, though; he often comes over here just to talk to me. In the 70s and 80s, he built the airport here, which was before we had the road. After the road was built opening access to the city, the airport closed. But now, the mayor of the city wants to reopen the airport to bring in more tourists.” Indeed, we told him, the city has excellent potential for tourism. When we told Ramón we were living with Maritza but had not met her yet, he told us about her as well. “She’s very nice, and a teacher. Her daughter lives in the United States now, having gotten married there. Right now, Maritza is in the States.” While we have yet to confirm what Ramón told us, he was very friendly and helpful, and we are looking forward to trying some of the juices he sells on our way back from work tomorrow.

We decided next to try to find the hospital and see what it was like, since Ramón had given us directions to it. The hospital is only a few minutes from our house walking, towards the end of town and not very far from mountains, which we plan to hike someday after work. While we were leaving the hospital to go to the internet café, we got into a conversation with a young man named Josser, who asked us if we were American, though he didn’t know any English. “I would like to get to know America someday—New York especially,” he said. Since I never thought I’d be going to Honduras, Costa Rica, Japan, Italy, or the U.K., I told him that going to the States someday could be possible if he worked hard (especially since we had already met several people in the town who had been to the States).

Josser offered for us to play soccer with him tomorrow in the field across from the hospital (he is on break from school right now). He wanted to know what we thought about the U.S. versus Mexico soccer game we had watched in Manuel Antonio—whether or not the game was painful to us, to which we responded that yes, it was unfortunate. He also wondered how we felt about Bin Laden’s death after what he had done. Josser was surprised when I said that although it is good that Bin Laden can no longer do bad things, his death did not give me joy or happiness. I probably would have felt differently about it if I were sixteen when it happened.

Josser offered us an interesting fruit, again a type with a shell that must be opened and an inner orb to squeeze out. Since we liked them, he asked if we wanted more, and then gave us a plastic bag full of them. He also said we could come to him if we needed anything. Next time we have internet, we’re going to add him on Facebook.

The internet café was closed when we went there, but luckily, some employees were there to tell us the hours (9:00-6:00). It may have been closed because this is a Sunday, and most other things in town were closed as well.

When we returned to the house, we were greeted enthusiastically and without reservation by the dog, Petra. As she continued to jump on me and gnaw my hand and arm, she was unresponsive to the Spanish commands I tried, such as “get down” and “no”. I would have been alright with the situation, except that Petra had just been nosing through some garbage.

At dinner, we were able to establish a better rapport with our housemates, mostly by stumbling through an endless mire of broken Spanish conversation. However, like our earlier communication with Ramón and Josser, this exchange was worthy of the distinguished title “conversation” by virtue of the diversity of topics we discussed: our countries, hometowns, hiking in the mountains, favorite movies and music, age, relationship statuses, work, school, food, and more.

In talking to Milania, a twenty-six-year-old who works for the Pepsi distribution center from 9:00am to 8:00pm Monday through Saturday, we learned much and were able to confirm what Ramón had told us. Maritza was a primary school teacher with a reputation for having been an excellent maestra, and is now retired and around 60 or 70 years old. She is currently in the United States, having been there since May 25, and will be back on Saturday. Seeing no harm in it, I asked Milania how Maritza could afford such a nice house, to which Milania nonchalantly responded, “by working as a teacher.” Much to our surprise, Milania was quite surprised when we told her that teachers were usually not paid very well in the United States. “Here,” Milania said, “teaching is a very good job. They make a lot.” We talked with her for about an hour in total.

The Pepsi distribution center next door

Of course, no story about communicating in a foreign language is complete without a record of blunders. Last night, we were informed during tonight’s dinner, we had confused everyone by saying estoy muy casado instead of estoy muy cansado. The latter means “I am very tired,” while the first means “I am very married.” I probably made the mistake because I was very tired. Also, earlier while talking to Josser, during a moment lacking the extreme caution necessary to speak Spanish correctly, I asked Josser, “¿Tiene un novio?” which means “Do you have a boyfriend?” Of course, I had meant to say, ¿Tiene una novia?” as he had just asked me.