At the beginning of my time here, I wrote several blogs about learning to drive. Well after a year and a half, I am quite good at driving in Honduras (although I may have to re-learn to drive in the States).
The rules of driving in Honduras is that there are no rules.
Police are not on the highways, they are stationed at the entrances to the city so anything goes on the highway.
For example, the speed limit is 60 kph(about 37 mph) on the highway. Most cars wouldn't dream of going any slower than 80 kph (50 mph) and usually drive about 100 kph (62 mph).
Those median lines? Forget about them.
No passing zones? No one follows them.
And driving is like one big game of chicken. I've seen the two lane highway fit four cars passing each other. No big deal.
If I drive like that in Wisconsin, I will be arrested, or at least heavily fined.
Driving in the city is another matter. There is A LOT of traffic, no matter what time of the day it is. People continue to drive fast and weave in and out of the lanes. Motorcyclists drive in between cars like they're threading a needle. And merging becomes a game of "my car is bigger than your car"...the biggest (or the least expensive) always wins.
Want to merge? Roll down the window and wave your hand. If the others are willing to let you in, they signal by flashing their lights. To show your appreciation, you give two short honks on your horn. I'm good at merging because I am a "rubia" aka I have lighter hair and skin...people are nicer to me when it comes to letting me in.
Another common trait for driving is being "conchudo". In English this word describes people who are rude and who don't necessarily consider others. For example, cars that pass on the shoulder of the highway because you are going to slowly. Or a car that merges when it is clearly not his turn. Or making an opening to pass when there is clearly not one. These people are conchudo. I have learned to be conchuda. It's not always a bad thing and is often necessary for driving in Tegucigalpa.
I am truly a Honduran driver, now that I have un-learned all the good driving techniques my parents taught me. Maybe they'll have to enroll me in driving school again?!
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Culture Part 1: The Waiting Room
Any kind of "appointment" is a cultural experience here. I use quotations because appointment is a loose term here. Basically you tell the doctor you're coming, the doctor tells you when he/she will arrive and then you wait your turn.
Doctors/dentists/hair dressers usually work out of their house. Their place of practice is normally a room that is added on to the house or a building within walking distance.
Once I took Angie to the dentist. We arrived at noon to find the place completely locked up, even though the dentist said she'd be there at 12. She arrived at quarter to one with all her kids. In the morning our dentist is a public school teacher, in the afternoon she cleans and pulls teeth. Don't try to figure that one out.
The one thing I love about Honduras is the waiting room. When a person enters, it is good manners to greet everyone with a "good morning" or "good afternoon". Perfect strangers can become good acquaintances after an afternoon in the waiting room. And because there are no set appointments, you might just end up spending the whole afternoon there.
I especially love when I go to get my hair done, because there is no waiting room. The whole hair salon is one room so it's like one big social event. I went to have my hair dyed last week and what an experience it was.
I entered to find two women ahead of me. Since there are 3 hairstylists, this normally wouldn't be a problem, but one hairstylist was already dying the other hairstylist's hair so I had to wait.
Three more women entered behind me and suddenly we had 6 customers for 3 hairstylists (2 of whom I mentioned were busy doing each others hair). Now things get interesting because it becomes a competition. I was already sitting in a chair so I got first dibs. Then things went a little like this.
- Hairstylist 1 is mixing my color while the first client waits for her color to set.
- Hairstylist 1 leaves me to take client 1 to wash out her hair. Client 4 (I am number 3) slips into client 1's chair.
- Hairstylist 2 dyes my hair and leaves it to set, then goes to wash out her own hair with hairstylist 3. Client 1 returns to find her chair occupied, and takes a seat on one of the waiting couches.
- Hairstylist 1 starts working on client 4. Hairstylist 2 takes me to wash out my hair. Client 1 grabs my chair.
- I come back from getting my hair washed and take the couch since my sets has been robbed.
- Client 2 finally evacuates her chair and as I go to grab it, client 5 swoops in and steals it. But Hairstylist 3 tells her that I was first and the chair is relinquished to me.
- Finally my hair is dried and straightened. I pay (not really sure who to pay) and get out as another woman fills my chair.
So there you go. In the course of 75 minutes, I sat in all three chairs and had my hair done by all three hair dressers. I also made friends with all the women in the salon, talked about my "kids", discussed hair styles and caught up on my Honduran "gossip". All for about 30 bucks.
Not bad for a day at the salon.
Doctors/dentists/hair dressers usually work out of their house. Their place of practice is normally a room that is added on to the house or a building within walking distance.
Once I took Angie to the dentist. We arrived at noon to find the place completely locked up, even though the dentist said she'd be there at 12. She arrived at quarter to one with all her kids. In the morning our dentist is a public school teacher, in the afternoon she cleans and pulls teeth. Don't try to figure that one out.
The one thing I love about Honduras is the waiting room. When a person enters, it is good manners to greet everyone with a "good morning" or "good afternoon". Perfect strangers can become good acquaintances after an afternoon in the waiting room. And because there are no set appointments, you might just end up spending the whole afternoon there.
I especially love when I go to get my hair done, because there is no waiting room. The whole hair salon is one room so it's like one big social event. I went to have my hair dyed last week and what an experience it was.
I entered to find two women ahead of me. Since there are 3 hairstylists, this normally wouldn't be a problem, but one hairstylist was already dying the other hairstylist's hair so I had to wait.
Three more women entered behind me and suddenly we had 6 customers for 3 hairstylists (2 of whom I mentioned were busy doing each others hair). Now things get interesting because it becomes a competition. I was already sitting in a chair so I got first dibs. Then things went a little like this.
- Hairstylist 1 is mixing my color while the first client waits for her color to set.
- Hairstylist 1 leaves me to take client 1 to wash out her hair. Client 4 (I am number 3) slips into client 1's chair.
- Hairstylist 2 dyes my hair and leaves it to set, then goes to wash out her own hair with hairstylist 3. Client 1 returns to find her chair occupied, and takes a seat on one of the waiting couches.
- Hairstylist 1 starts working on client 4. Hairstylist 2 takes me to wash out my hair. Client 1 grabs my chair.
- I come back from getting my hair washed and take the couch since my sets has been robbed.
- Client 2 finally evacuates her chair and as I go to grab it, client 5 swoops in and steals it. But Hairstylist 3 tells her that I was first and the chair is relinquished to me.
- Finally my hair is dried and straightened. I pay (not really sure who to pay) and get out as another woman fills my chair.
So there you go. In the course of 75 minutes, I sat in all three chairs and had my hair done by all three hair dressers. I also made friends with all the women in the salon, talked about my "kids", discussed hair styles and caught up on my Honduran "gossip". All for about 30 bucks.
Not bad for a day at the salon.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Silence
It wasn't intentional, but my life in Honduras has seemed to revolve around numbers. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I always seem to be counting to see if we are all "here".
21: different beds that I have slept in during my time in Honduras.
32: weeks of my bible study at church
18: trips I took to immigration to ask permission to stay in the country
80: minutes driving between Tegucigalpa and the Villa
3: movies in the Narnia series that we have watch countless times
25: pounds in the bag of rice that we buy nearly every week
24: people that we fit in the 15-passenger van for a trip to La Tigra
73: blogs about my adventures
And now just one number remains...FOUR
FOUR
In exactly four weeks, I will be on a plane bound for Atlanta, GA. In four weeks (minus a day) I will be packing two years worth of life into two suitcases. In four weeks there will be tears, and hugs, and a chorus of "Miss Katie, don't go".
And I won't want to go. I will want to stay and continue to be a part of raising a dozen kids. I will want to be here for Kimberly's birthday in December and the beginning of the new school year in February.
But it's not about what I want.
God said "go"
and I went. Now He is calling me home.
"How long?" I ask at three o'clock in the morning when I am on my knees. And there is silence.
"Will I get to see the girls graduate?". And there is silence.
"Who will teach English without me?" And there is silence.
"What am I going to do in the States? Where should I live?" and there is silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
I have learned to accept God's silence. It is not because He is punishing me, but rather because He knows that it's not yet time for me to know. He keeps silent before my downpour of questions. He will give me the answers when I am ready and able to receive them. And some time in the future He will begin to answer my questions when I least expect.
Psalm 37:7 says "be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.". In Spanish, the same verse starts out "be silent before the Lord..."
Four weeks...
Four weeks to pack up my things, finish my bible study, say my goodbyes, find my "lost" items, and give the kids their English exams.
Four weeks to be silent before God, trusting in His next steps for my life.
21: different beds that I have slept in during my time in Honduras.
32: weeks of my bible study at church
18: trips I took to immigration to ask permission to stay in the country
80: minutes driving between Tegucigalpa and the Villa
3: movies in the Narnia series that we have watch countless times
25: pounds in the bag of rice that we buy nearly every week
24: people that we fit in the 15-passenger van for a trip to La Tigra
73: blogs about my adventures
And now just one number remains...FOUR
FOUR
In exactly four weeks, I will be on a plane bound for Atlanta, GA. In four weeks (minus a day) I will be packing two years worth of life into two suitcases. In four weeks there will be tears, and hugs, and a chorus of "Miss Katie, don't go".
And I won't want to go. I will want to stay and continue to be a part of raising a dozen kids. I will want to be here for Kimberly's birthday in December and the beginning of the new school year in February.
But it's not about what I want.
God said "go"
and I went. Now He is calling me home.
"How long?" I ask at three o'clock in the morning when I am on my knees. And there is silence.
"Will I get to see the girls graduate?". And there is silence.
"Who will teach English without me?" And there is silence.
"What am I going to do in the States? Where should I live?" and there is silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
I have learned to accept God's silence. It is not because He is punishing me, but rather because He knows that it's not yet time for me to know. He keeps silent before my downpour of questions. He will give me the answers when I am ready and able to receive them. And some time in the future He will begin to answer my questions when I least expect.
Psalm 37:7 says "be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.". In Spanish, the same verse starts out "be silent before the Lord..."
Four weeks...
Four weeks to pack up my things, finish my bible study, say my goodbyes, find my "lost" items, and give the kids their English exams.
Four weeks to be silent before God, trusting in His next steps for my life.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Mama Bear
I know that I'm only 25 years old and that technically Haeyoung is the "mama" of the Villa, but in the past two years I have definitely taken on some "mama bear" qualities.
1. I am quick to defend my kids to others, even if they are saying the same thing that I was just complaining about the other day.
2. Call it a 6th sense but I always know where all 12 of them are and I seem to always know when they are about to get into trouble.
3. When we are in sketchy places, I definitely grow claws. They can tell by my face that I'm no-nonsense and they'd better not mess with me.
4. I become proud mama bear whenever our girls perform.
Let me explain that last one.
In August 2010, Angie came to the Villa and we discovered that she had a talent and a passion for dancing. So we channeled her dancing towards the other girls and BAM, we have a group of girls that worship God through dance. SO COOL.
First, they performed for Elvia's birthday celebration. The pastor was so touched, he invited them to share it with the whole congregation.
Then the girls choreographed some more songs and performed them at several outreaches in 4 different pueblos/cities.
A teacher at one of the major bilingual schools loved how the girls worshipped through dance and asked them to perform at her school in front of over 500 students.
And just this weekend the girls performed a drama in front of thousands of people at a city-wide outreach day. The girls rehearsed for hours every day and did a fantastic job when their time came.
I was able to watch them from the wings of the stage and was brought to tears. How beautiful are my girls. I am so proud to see how far God has brought them.
Our 7 girls came to us with major attitudes and a lot of emotional wounds that needed healing. Sara refused even a hug when she first arrived. Kimberly's first months were basically silent, and Paola used to break down in tears when she was addressed.
Then and now
A lot of stories could be told about how they were, but we focus on how they are now. I have grown to love these girls, my emotional bunch of teenage girls. They make me so proud. They love God and they serve Him.
God has brought them so far, and oh how far He will take them still!
1. I am quick to defend my kids to others, even if they are saying the same thing that I was just complaining about the other day.
2. Call it a 6th sense but I always know where all 12 of them are and I seem to always know when they are about to get into trouble.
3. When we are in sketchy places, I definitely grow claws. They can tell by my face that I'm no-nonsense and they'd better not mess with me.
4. I become proud mama bear whenever our girls perform.
Let me explain that last one.
In August 2010, Angie came to the Villa and we discovered that she had a talent and a passion for dancing. So we channeled her dancing towards the other girls and BAM, we have a group of girls that worship God through dance. SO COOL.
First, they performed for Elvia's birthday celebration. The pastor was so touched, he invited them to share it with the whole congregation.
Then the girls choreographed some more songs and performed them at several outreaches in 4 different pueblos/cities.
A teacher at one of the major bilingual schools loved how the girls worshipped through dance and asked them to perform at her school in front of over 500 students.
And just this weekend the girls performed a drama in front of thousands of people at a city-wide outreach day. The girls rehearsed for hours every day and did a fantastic job when their time came.
I was able to watch them from the wings of the stage and was brought to tears. How beautiful are my girls. I am so proud to see how far God has brought them.
Our 7 girls came to us with major attitudes and a lot of emotional wounds that needed healing. Sara refused even a hug when she first arrived. Kimberly's first months were basically silent, and Paola used to break down in tears when she was addressed.
Then and now
A lot of stories could be told about how they were, but we focus on how they are now. I have grown to love these girls, my emotional bunch of teenage girls. They make me so proud. They love God and they serve Him.
God has brought them so far, and oh how far He will take them still!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Little Women
On Saturday Haeyoung brought home the movie "Little Women" to watch with the girls.
I don't know why, but I never read the book when I was young but I decided that I wanted to read it before I watched the movie. So I woke up early on Sunday morning and started reading. I read, and read, and read. I laughed, I cried, I threw a pillow and I drove Carmen and Lisel crazy making predictions.
Finally I finished. I loved it! The book is well written, has dynamic characters, good morals, and experiences that everyone can relate to.
Then came time to watch the movie, I was so excited to see the characters and the plot played out.
And I was so disappointed.
Seriously. I was really disappointed. Actually I think the word I used was deceived. How dare those movie people take such a good book and ruin it! The best parts were taken out, everything was out of order and squished together, some parts were invented, and the characters didn't look anything like they looked in my imagination.
Just another lesson that the book is always better than the movie.
Sigh.
That's how it is in my life too. I read the Bible and I get so encouraged by the people who make up those pages.
Ester: she risked her own life to save her people
Ruth: she left her family behind to follow God
Paul: he faced ship-wrecks, a bite by a poisonous snake, 40-lashes minus one, and imprisonment and yet still wrote one of the most "joyful" books of the Bible (Philippians)
David: he was a man after God's own heart
Daniel: he slept with the lions
Countless men and women who have walked before me and found favor in the Lord's eyes. And then I try and feel like a failure.
The book is better than the movie.
I want to live without fear, full of joy, facing the trials head-on. But sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is a chore. I want to write and encourage and speak truth into people's lives but first I have to pull the log out of my own eye.
And yet some day I will get there. Maybe I won't be asked to walk in the fire, or to lead an army, or be imprisoned. But I will do something great. I know this because we will all do something great.
God wants us to be great for Him. He wants us to be brave for Him. He wants us to serve Him.
And we will, we will. In His perfect timing.
Someday my movie will be just as good as the book.
I don't know why, but I never read the book when I was young but I decided that I wanted to read it before I watched the movie. So I woke up early on Sunday morning and started reading. I read, and read, and read. I laughed, I cried, I threw a pillow and I drove Carmen and Lisel crazy making predictions.
Finally I finished. I loved it! The book is well written, has dynamic characters, good morals, and experiences that everyone can relate to.
Then came time to watch the movie, I was so excited to see the characters and the plot played out.
And I was so disappointed.
Seriously. I was really disappointed. Actually I think the word I used was deceived. How dare those movie people take such a good book and ruin it! The best parts were taken out, everything was out of order and squished together, some parts were invented, and the characters didn't look anything like they looked in my imagination.
Just another lesson that the book is always better than the movie.
Sigh.
That's how it is in my life too. I read the Bible and I get so encouraged by the people who make up those pages.
Ester: she risked her own life to save her people
Ruth: she left her family behind to follow God
Paul: he faced ship-wrecks, a bite by a poisonous snake, 40-lashes minus one, and imprisonment and yet still wrote one of the most "joyful" books of the Bible (Philippians)
David: he was a man after God's own heart
Daniel: he slept with the lions
Countless men and women who have walked before me and found favor in the Lord's eyes. And then I try and feel like a failure.
The book is better than the movie.
I want to live without fear, full of joy, facing the trials head-on. But sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is a chore. I want to write and encourage and speak truth into people's lives but first I have to pull the log out of my own eye.
And yet some day I will get there. Maybe I won't be asked to walk in the fire, or to lead an army, or be imprisoned. But I will do something great. I know this because we will all do something great.
God wants us to be great for Him. He wants us to be brave for Him. He wants us to serve Him.
And we will, we will. In His perfect timing.
Someday my movie will be just as good as the book.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Hold my Hand
A couple days ago I took the boys into Danli to help me run some errands. I like the company, the boys like the snack I always buy them for being my "assistants".
In search of a place to make photocopies, I led the boys around the city. Running across streets and cutting through alleys, always with the boys on my heels. Until I looked down and there were Josue and Daniel, one with his small hand placed firmly in mine, the other with his arm looped through mine like a perfect gentleman leading a lady.
It's so natural now, to walk surrounded by kids. To walk with my wallet tucked into my armpit so that my hands are free for holding. To change "partners" at each stoplight. It's so natural.
Today I was journaling. I have a bunch of errands to run that will take me all over this city. I will be alone as I pick up my passport from immigration, change money at the Chinese supermarket, cash checks at the bank, buy groceries for the week, and stop at the fruit stand to stock up on produce.
I will be alone
But for now I only think about my journal, and my coffee.
And the words flow. Not from my mind, but from my heart.
I read what I have written: Hold my hand Father. I just want you to hold my hand.
...just hold my hand
There is something so comforting in holding someone's hand. Because all of a sudden instead of one, you are two. There is the knowledge that no matter how dark it is, there is another to help you see. No matter how windy it gets, there is someone to sustain you. No wonder I always seem to have someone slipping their hand into mine!
So often my job is to be the adult. To be the comfort, to be the eyes that see and the one that sustains. I wipe tears and calm fears and make smiles appear. I am the adult.
But sometimes I want to be the little girl. I want to slip my hand into one that is bigger than mine. I want to be led and comforted by another.
Sometimes, admits the chaos of life, it is comforting to have someone take us by the hand and lead us.
My prayer this morning is simple and free of clutter. It is not a prayer that comes from my mouth, but is rather the cries of the heart of a little girl: Hold my hand Abba, just hold my hand.
In search of a place to make photocopies, I led the boys around the city. Running across streets and cutting through alleys, always with the boys on my heels. Until I looked down and there were Josue and Daniel, one with his small hand placed firmly in mine, the other with his arm looped through mine like a perfect gentleman leading a lady.
It's so natural now, to walk surrounded by kids. To walk with my wallet tucked into my armpit so that my hands are free for holding. To change "partners" at each stoplight. It's so natural.
Today I was journaling. I have a bunch of errands to run that will take me all over this city. I will be alone as I pick up my passport from immigration, change money at the Chinese supermarket, cash checks at the bank, buy groceries for the week, and stop at the fruit stand to stock up on produce.
I will be alone
But for now I only think about my journal, and my coffee.
And the words flow. Not from my mind, but from my heart.
I read what I have written: Hold my hand Father. I just want you to hold my hand.
...just hold my hand
There is something so comforting in holding someone's hand. Because all of a sudden instead of one, you are two. There is the knowledge that no matter how dark it is, there is another to help you see. No matter how windy it gets, there is someone to sustain you. No wonder I always seem to have someone slipping their hand into mine!
So often my job is to be the adult. To be the comfort, to be the eyes that see and the one that sustains. I wipe tears and calm fears and make smiles appear. I am the adult.
But sometimes I want to be the little girl. I want to slip my hand into one that is bigger than mine. I want to be led and comforted by another.
Sometimes, admits the chaos of life, it is comforting to have someone take us by the hand and lead us.
My prayer this morning is simple and free of clutter. It is not a prayer that comes from my mouth, but is rather the cries of the heart of a little girl: Hold my hand Abba, just hold my hand.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Cold Front
If you've been keeping up on weather, we've had a not-so-nice tropical storm that caused a lot of havoc in our little country. Due to a ton of wind and flooding, the southern part experienced a lot of damage and basically lost all communication with the rest of the country for a while. It was (and still is a mess).
Thankfully, we at the Villa were not subject to any of these problems except for the cold front.
Cold Front?
Ok, I know that those of you from the northern US and Canada are probably scoffing and about to give up reading right now.
Please hear me out.
When it gets cold in the US we:
turn on the heat, shut the doors, thank God for good insulation, make a fire, put on warm clothes, enjoy our thick carpeting.
In Honduras:
there is no heat (we have no need for it 95% of the year), there is no insulation in the houses, the windows and doors are not caulked to prevent a draft from entering, there is no carpeting. And at the Villa, thanks to our courtyard, every door opens to the outside.
Luckily we do have a fireplace, and a lot of fire wood. The girls are now professional fire-builders and the boys have fine-tuned the skill of cutting a tree trunk into fuel for the fireplace.
I love this "cold front" because it reminds me of fall back home. I like to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee-or homemade tea, a blanket, and a book. And if I'm lucky, a little "buddy" comes to share my blanket and tuck his cold feet under my legs to warm them up.
Yes, I am a very lucky girl.
Thankfully, we at the Villa were not subject to any of these problems except for the cold front.
Cold Front?
Ok, I know that those of you from the northern US and Canada are probably scoffing and about to give up reading right now.
Please hear me out.
When it gets cold in the US we:
turn on the heat, shut the doors, thank God for good insulation, make a fire, put on warm clothes, enjoy our thick carpeting.
In Honduras:
there is no heat (we have no need for it 95% of the year), there is no insulation in the houses, the windows and doors are not caulked to prevent a draft from entering, there is no carpeting. And at the Villa, thanks to our courtyard, every door opens to the outside.
Luckily we do have a fireplace, and a lot of fire wood. The girls are now professional fire-builders and the boys have fine-tuned the skill of cutting a tree trunk into fuel for the fireplace.
I love this "cold front" because it reminds me of fall back home. I like to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee-or homemade tea, a blanket, and a book. And if I'm lucky, a little "buddy" comes to share my blanket and tuck his cold feet under my legs to warm them up.
Yes, I am a very lucky girl.
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