I'm here. But it's not like I'm just here - I really am here.
After sweating my way through the Honduran customs line I found Amanda, the CBS volunteer coordinator, and we hopped into a van. Van might be a grand word for the vehicle we rode for 40 minutes into Cofradía. It was more of a creaky, rusty container on wheels, that happened to hold six lopsided benches. Apparently it's the van that brings us to school every morning and then back to the house every afternoon.
Honduras is beautiful. So much more so than I expected. I'm surrounded by mountains, palm trees and super lush farms. And amidst it all, driving down the road I saw a man peeing, a dead dog, and kids filing in the holes in the road. I am here.
After a sudden stop in a parking lot, my luggage was hauled out of the van. And onto a school bus. We were directed to get onto the bus, as apparently it would take us the rest of the way. The school bus was as much of a bus as the van was a van.
Got to the volunteer house. It has running water. Sort of. When I arrived, the water had already been out for four days and the kitchen was covered in dirty dishes. On a separate note, sounds like the house has rats. Liz, the woman I share a room with, explained that there is a rat that lives in our bathroom, under the shower drain. To solve this issue, there is a drain cover in the shower, that she has never ever removed. And supposedly the water drains sufficiently despite the drain cover. We keep the bathroom door closed. To also keep the cockroaches out of our room.
After sweating and unpacking the crazy amount of stuff Mom had been up all night packing for me, I went with Amanda to the town center. There I had the startling realization that I was now going to have to both grocery shop and cook for myself.
It's hot here. I went to shower, a bit after the water had come back on. But when I turned on the tap, no water came out. I asked Liz if the water was out again, even though the sink ran a slow stream. She explained that the shower is kind of funny - if any other water is running in the house, the shower won't work. I, too, think that is funny.
This is real.
I am here.
Whoa, are you ever there. I hope it all stays funny and goes up from there. And that the beauty of the country gives you solace and company.
ReplyDeleteCathy
Eliza, this is so cool to read! You ARE there. I will be following your adventures. You got this!
ReplyDeleteEliza, I am looking forward to following your gap year through your blog. Thank you for taking the time to share this with all of us. This year will be transformative on so many levels. You are brave, resilient and adaptable and will be called on to use all of these strengths. A few weeks from now you will have stepped into the rhythm of your "new normal." I will think of you with the lovingkindness meditation, "May you be safe. May you be healthy. May you be happy. May you find ease in whatever your are given." That is my wish for you.
ReplyDeleteHi - I hope I am not repeating myself but my post didn't seem to post. You are a wonderful writer. Keep documenting all of your observations because everything you noticed today will just seem normal. You may be there, but we're all here, rooting for you. Lot's of love, Michelle
ReplyDeleteYou make me smile.
ReplyDeleteDid you know my favorite name for God is HaMakom? The Place.
Your words:
"Honduras is beautiful. So much more so than I expected. I'm surrounded by mountains, palm trees and super lush farms. And amidst it all, driving down the road I saw a man peeing, a dead dog, and kids filing in the holes in the road. I am here."
Brought the name HaMakom to mind . . . all of them.
And we have a long and wonderful tradition of the best people stepping up and saying "Hineini" - Here I am.
With your blog many of us can be "here" with you in our own ways. Thank you for that gift and invitation.
Love you.