Feliz Navidades

It was about halfway (maybe a little less, in my defense) through training and we were scheduled to have a meeting with the safety and security guy from Peace Corps. He had been on leave as his wife had recently given birth to their second child. I was all set to properly bestow upon him the proper wishes for such an occasion, a very heartfelt Congratulations. I wanted to be the first one to say it (what am I in first grade?). He walked in and I blurted it out, Feliz Navidades! His cheeks flushed a little and then his face told me the ah ha went off in his brain and he graciously thanked me with a slight giggle. Of course my fellow trainees were not as forgiving, the entire room erupted into laughter, then my face went beet red. One of my friends explained that not only had I wished him Merry Christmas, but Merry Christmases! It was an honest mistake, congratulations is felicidades, I just merged the two words for Merry Christmas. What a rookie I was (hopefully this is a past tense and I have advanced at least a little past rookie status). As such, I wish you all Feliz Navidades and Happy Holidays from the bottom of my heart. May you enjoy this time with good friends, loving family and happy hearts. I have found new friends and family here in Honduras, not to replace the old ones, but to add to my classic collection.

Hogar dulce hogar

I can hardly sleep, I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve that has already peeked at my gifts and now am imagining all of the possibilities how to play with my new toys when they are actually in my possession tomorrow (not that I would know what that feels like Mom). I move into my new house tomorrow, my very own Honduran casa, complete with mango and coconut trees! My host family has been and will continue to be precious to me, just as the other two were, however it has been more than 5 months since I moved to this wonderful country and I have lived with generous families ever since, it´s time to spread my newly grown Honduran wings. Not only is this the first time I´ve lived out of my own country, but it´s the first time ever I will be living alone, wooohooo! At this moment I have exactly zero furniture, not a bed, not a stove, not even a chair or a pot to you know what in, but the whole echoing place is mine, all mine I say! There are three bedrooms, only two of which I have access to as the owners are storing something in the third (only in Honduras, right?). Worried at first that it might be bodies or drugs I was relieved when the realtor revealed the owner was a doctor and stores medical supplies there. The house is in a really safe neighborhood complete with watchman riding around on bikes, not to mention the necessity to unlock three locks before you can even step foot in the house. Did I mention there is also a 15 foot concrete fence surrounding the perimeter, very Fort Knoxish. The yard is huge with lots of shade from trees, a seemingly perfect spot for a vegetable garden, however seeing as I have never grown a vegetable in my life stay tuned for the result of this theory. I am looking forward to making it my own with a little paint and a lot of thrifty imagination. Any money saving tips on furnishing and-or decorating would be greatly appreciated. Does anyone have experience making furniture out of paper mache?

Going postal?

Being patient and flexible has been crucial to my success thus far in Honduras. Things are constantly being changed, people don`t show up when they say they are going to and things take 10 times as long to get done here than I`ve ever experienced. I am surely rolling with the punches. The most recent jab was received last week when I went to the post office (aka the house of a women named Yolanda where the mail for my town is delivered from a nearby larger town). She came to the door and began, ¨Fijese que...¨ which in Spanish translate to something like,¨Here´s the thing...¨. She proceeded to tell me that after 14 years of providing this service to my town of El Porvenir that it will no longer be provided. So, not a big deal, I have rented a PO Box in the La Ceiba, so I do have a new address for you to continue sending all of the wonderful things you have been sending. Yesterday I got the announcement of my best friends new son, last week a dear friend sent fall leaves pressed in wax paper to give me a taste of the Northeast Ohio autumn I missed so dearly and a few weeks ago I received 18 individual letters from my friends classroom of students asking some great questions about what I am doing here and Honduras. Thank you so much for all of the great mail. I received some good news today that I may be able to move into my new house as soon as this weekend and when I do I can`t wait to decorate my walls with all of the beautiful pictures I`ve received. Here`s the new address:

Jessica Dillworth

Apartado Postal #911

La Ceiba, Atlantida

Honduras, Central America

Don`t worry about the letters and packages currently in route, they will get to me. Believe it or not my Spanish is good enough that I was able to go to the post office, explain what I needed and that I was still waiting for mail going to my old address and rent a PO box! This patience thing is really paying off!

We are family!

When the Peace Corps matched me up with a host family in El Porvenir I think they did so based on my picture because I really look like I could be one of them. Here is a picture of my host brother and sister at the river. The other evening my host mother and I were doing some front porch sittin when a neighbor pulled up on his bicycle to shoot the breeze. I followed most of their conversation up until the part where he gave me the ol´ lip point and asked if I was Mariza´s niece and she shook her head yes. Certainly I had misheard . When the conversation was concluded and the man drove off I asked Maritza if she had told the man I was her niece. She said yes! She explained that I looked so much like her niece Lora that lives in the states that everyone just assumed I was her. She just went with it, why, I am not exactly clear. I told her that as soon as I open my mouth people know I am not Honduran. She explains to people that I have lived in the states my whole life and I am just visiting here for a couple of years so that’s why I don`t speak Spanish very well. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, why on earth is she telling people this? When I asked that question she said something about it just being easier and more private. I think the reason may be that she thinks they will become a target if they know a Gringa is living there because we are all filthy rich don`t you know! They were supposed to make me feel like one of the family, but I think this is a bit much! Here is my host family playing cards.

¿Scooby Doo, donde estas?

Some things just dont translate. The other day I brought home a jigsaw puzzle to do with my family. There are lots of days when everyone just kind of sits around not doing too much, especially with all of the rain recently, so I thought this would spice things up a bit. Wanting to share a little of my culture I thought, this is the kind of thing we up north might do on a rainy day, right? At first they didn´t know what it was, then once I got the box opened they informed me that they call it “rompe cabeza”, literally translating to “break head” because, apparently, that’s what such a brain teaser does to you when you are trying to figure it out. We were off to a great start; my host sisters and brother were really into it as I guided them through how to start. First we flip all of the pieces face up, then we look for all of the pieces with a flat edge to work on the outside first. It took us a while but the first couple pieces were matched after a couple of minutes to which I said jokingly, “Only 498 more to go!” at which my host mother gave a hearty chuckle. Being able to make jokes in the language you are trying to learn is so encouraging. Sarcasm and making people laugh is something I thrive on in my “normal life”, but those are the kinds of things that don’t translate exactly in Spanish, so its fun figuring out how to make it work. So we are sailing along with this puzzle, which by the way is a fall scene of a little house on a lake with the autumn colored leaves reflecting on the water, (sniffle sniffle, makes me miss home a little, but thanks to my friend Joy, I miss it a little less after receiving her the beautiful fall leaves from NE Ohio!). I start to notice that not only is my younger sister jamming the pieces to make them fit no matter what (seriously, her face was all scrunched up while she was doing it as if saying “I am going to make this thing fit if it’s the last thing I do”, I think she was even grunting a little bit), but parts of the outline that had already been put together are completely wrong. Boy was the rule following , coloring within the lines anxious ridden person I normally am being tested. I gently encouraged my younger host sister to be a little more kind to the poor puzzle pieces and politely showed my older host sister how the pieces on the outside didn`t quite match up. After about an hour everyone gave up and I optimistically suggested that our brains just needed a break and we could try another day. The next day I came home and the puzzle was boxed back up and put in my room.

Lifes a Beach.

A land lover I have never been, at sea is where I would rather be any day. Of the many beautiful, natural attributes El Porvenir has to offer, I must say the Caribbean Sea is #1 for me. Growing up on Lake Erie I have such fond memories of Edgewater Park and the beaches all along the northeast coast of Ohio. Happily I report that I am right at home with the sea a few minutes walk from where I live and work. Angela, Marvin and I took a walk to the beach the other day and I touched the water for the first time since I have been here, ahhh, what a refreshing feeling after all of the gloomy days we have been having this rainy season. Angela and I hiked up our skirt and pants respectively, flung off our shoes as fast as they would drop off our feet and hand in hand ran down the surf as small waves crashed into our feet and legs. Que rico! Que rico Jessica! (how refreshing) Angela said about a billion times. Uncertain whether she was simply enjoying our time together or if she never does this I made mental note to take advantage of this type of outing with the kids more often. Sand castle building contests, beach volleyball and skipping rocks have made their way to my agenda. Marvin found some other boys to play soccer with on the beach while Angela and I screeched at every wave that splashed us and dug our feet deep into the sand like little clams. We came upon some beautiful driftwood, half buried in the sand, the other half protruding from the ground. When we started heading back up the shoreline the way we had come Angela wanted to race, we ran to our shoes giggling like little school girls the whole way, at least Angela has an excuse, she is 9. What a beautiful day, I cant believe how lucky I am.

Fried gecko anyone? And no, it is not something I ate this time!

Geckos are our friends. They don´t hurt anyone, they aren´t messy, they eat up all of the bothersome little insects, they are kinda cute actually. They give off this soft purr, a soothing nightly noise that you come to look forward to each night and gently reminds you that you are in Honduras. This morning I came into the office to use the computer they have for me there and to my chagrin it was all torn apart, obviously being worked on. My co-worker beckoned me over and there it was…

a gecko had caused my motherboard, and himself in the process, to fry. What a site, the poor little guy never saw it coming I bet. There are just some things you could never say in the states, “A gecko crawled into my computer tower and fried to death” is a chart topper in that category. I wonder the last thought that crossed his little brain, maybe “Is someone barbequing?”

The sugar cane that left a sour taste in my mouth.

My municipality is super kid friendly, meaning kids are welcome to mill about, drink from the water cooler and just hang out if they like. Everyday I am surprised at how different it is in the states where kids would be *in the way* if they were just standing in your office and running about in common areas. As I mentioned the kids here are holding my heart prisoner, especially the pre-teen boys. Marvin (pictured here) and I met the other day (I absolutely love the names here, Oscar, Melvin, Oswaldo). He and a couple of his friends stopped into my office, at first to just stare at the Gringa, a game they like to play and, whether I want to play or not, am forced to be the other participant. After overcoming the initial awkwardness we began to speak, at first exchanging pleasantries and general information. Once they caught a glimpse of the manual for teaching English I have it was clear what we were going to do for the next 2 hours. Taking turns the three went through vocabulary, attempting to say the words in English, but only one of them was able to read much at all. I do not think the other two could read very well in Spanish, never mind English.

Marvin lives in my town with his grandparents because his parents and older siblings live on Roatan Island for work. The following week Marvin and his grandma were up at the municipality because they were giving away food to those most in need. What a debacle, the families were told the food would be there Monday, then Tuesday and then, after sitting at the municipality all day Wednesday they finally got their food packets. Marvin hung out with me the next morning and then I told him I wanted to see where his lived, a little surprised he repeated what I had just said to make sure he understood. Sure, I told him, I like to see where all of my friends live. The smile that snuck up on his face confirmed I had succeeded in communicating that I cared about him, something you can do even without speaking the same language very well. We strolled the streets of El Porvenir chatting the whole way, it was hard to believe we were able to fill the whole time with conversation, it was effortless, an adjective I have become unfamiliar with during my pursuit of learning a new language. When we arrived he unlocked the gate (which entails unlatching a loop of barbed wire from the wooden fence post) for me to enter. The whole way he had been talking about cañe (pronounced Kanye, as in Kanye West), asking what I knew about it, if I liked it, etc, I had no idea what he was talking about. After a brief hello to his grandma who was so hospitable, grabbing the nicest plastic lawn chair they had for me to sit, we went out back to meet grandpa. Marvin was talking about that darn cañe again as grandpa whipped out his machete (is it weird that I am used to such a site this now?) and commenced chopping at a large stalk growing from the ground. After freeing it from the ground he started working at cutting the outside bark from the top of the stalk. When he finished that he asked me to hold onto the part he had just shaved the bark from so he could lob of that part for me to eat. Without hesitating I grabbed it and he wacked it off with a couple swings (again, I was not phased me, I think I have been here too long!). Sugar cane, that is what Marvin had been talking about. Chomping into the stalk I realized why he was so excited, and also why everyone{s teeth are falling out here. Sweeter than sweet, it was a delicious snack after a long walk in the sun. After a pleasant visit with grandpa, Marvin grabbed what remained of the stalk which was taller than him informing me it was a gift, and proceeded to walk me home like a little gentleman. When I arrived home awkwardly trying to get in the house with this 7 foot stalk of sugar cane prepared to explain to my host mother what it was and what we needed to do with it. Silly me, obviously I haven{t been here long enough, otherwise I would know that everyone knows about sugar cane and how to prepare it, as my host mother demonstrated by casually suggesting I put the long pole on the pila (a large concrete basin where our water is stored) and when my host dad could he would go out back with the machete and take care of it. Of course he would!

It was the next day while my host sister (pictured here) and I were relaxing in the backyard that I was forced to rethink my experience, which on the surface was an innocent gesture from a kind Honduran family to the new foreigner. She proceeded to first chastise me for having gone into that neighborhood because it was dangerous (I had not known this and besides they say that about every neighborhood that isn{t their own) and told me that the only reason the family gave me the sugar cane is because they want something from me exchange, probably money. Processing the sudden punch in the stomach I had just received, I became silent and thoughtful momentarily. It had not occurred to her that they were genuinely trying to be kind to a person who had been spending some time with their grandson, just as it not occurred to me that ulterior motives were involved in this seemingly harmless exchange. After I thanked my host sister for her concern and suggestions for my future behavior I pondered. I dont want to become a jaded American having lived in a developing country because I was always second guessing the locals intentions. At the same time I need to be cautious enough to protect myself from unintended situations that may arise and the ramifications of behavior which I am unable to interpret. Naïve I am not, but there is a fine line naivety and erring on the side of optimism.

I fell in love today, and then I ate some chicken feet.

It was one of those days, the kind where I felt truly connected to my purpose and felt as if I were exactly where I needed to be (some people think PC volunteers feel like this everyday, believe me, we don´t). My really good day started last Sunday with Amalia and Charlie who live and volunteer here and are quickly becoming good friends of mine. Here is a picture of them and their neighbor (Charlie´s baby) Syra. Amalia is originally from Honduras and Charlie is a good ole´ southern boy from Texas, a little firecracker if you ask me. They (as well as most of us as I am finding out) live next door to a church whose members make everyone within earshot (and further even) aware of their love for God by yelling and singing about it at the top of their lungs, virtually every night. While I personally don´t share their enthusiasm where religion is concerned, I say more power to them, but not Charlie. He threatened to introduce the Hondurans to Willie Nelson on full blast the next time he deems their services too loud! Charlie and Amalia, among other projects, have been working on a project they call Grandma´s Kids. When they first came to help El Porvenir after Hurricane Mitch they stumbled upon some abuelitas (grannies) who were living with their children and grandchildren in dire living conditions. They didn´t have running water, were using the ocean to bath, wash clothes and to relive themselves, roofs falling in on top of them, malnourished, most of the children had TB among other health issues. One girl has epilepsy and is permanently damaged from seizing so profusely in the past as a result of not having the proper medication, at times for 30 minutes straight. Over the past years Amalia and Charlie have secured improved living conditions, provided assistance for means to feed the 7 women and 25 or so children and provided medication to treat many of their ailments. Even still, they could not be considered anything but poverty stricken by any stretch of the imagination. One of the issues is that there is no one to care for the little kids while the women work, so Charlie and Amalia built a daycare. This is the event I attended, the grand opening. And this is where I fell in love. These kids didn´t know me from a hole in the wall, but hugged me, touched me, clung to me and loved me immediately, like I had known them their whole life. The feelings were mutual. Here is a picture of Oscar (as you can tell the picture is compliments of him), he held my hand during the entire ceremony and gazed up at me so lovingly, I was melting. Another one of the many ¨oh yeah, this is why I¨m here¨ moments, which come when I´m not even expecting it, the best time. Expectations, what a relative term, like night and day between here and the United States. Right now my expectations are virtually nonexistent because I haven´t been here long enough to determine them. I´m finding that being in that mindset I am rarely disappointed and often pleasantly surprised, I could get used to that. Here´s a picture of all the kids, their moms and the grandmas. They are standing on a little bridge that connects their yard to the street, before it was built they trudged back and forth through essentially a swamp.

Charlie and Amalia are going back to the states for a couple of months so I told her I would check in on Grandma´s Kids while they were away. The next day I was still high and on my way home from the municipality when 3 of Grandma´s Kids riding a bike (see previous blog entry) started screaming Jessica!! Jessica!!. One of them jumped off, and came charging toward me. I caught him in my arms where he clung with his arms and legs wrapped around my torso like a koala bear. He asked where I was going and when I told him my house and he quickly replied, no you´re coming to my house, grabbed my hand and led the way. Who am I to argue with one of Grandma´s Kids? Originally, I had figured I would come by the house in a week or so to check in, but I found myself back there the very next day. Yes, I do believe in fate. Jose and I got closer to the house and as they saw the Gringa (that would be me) they came charging and screaming my name, 10 or so of Grandma´s Kids. Some had no shirts, some no pants, most had no shoes, some of those babies where even stark naked. One boy, maybe 3 or 4, who asked me no less than 100 questions (and screamed the question at the top of his lungs whenever I asked him to repeat it as if I couldn´t hear rather than couldn´t speak the language), was eating a cacao, a fruit with a bunch of seeds with sort of slimy sour flesh. As he spit out the seeds another little boy picked them up off of the muddy street to suck any juice that was left in the regurgitated seed. One curly dark-haired naked baby sat in the middle of the road, her little butt was caked with mud. They all fought to be the ones underneath my arms on each side, however being surprisingly polite to one another allowing turns to be taken. We talked for a while. They get such a kick out of teaching me Spanish and I feel less inhibited speaking around them than adults. When it was time to go I got 15 hugs (5 other kids had joined the ruckus by that time) and was made to promise to stop by tomorrow, the easiest promise I´ve ever made. I walked home contemplating the circumstances which had been presented; this is the kind of stuff I imagined when I signed up for Peace Corps. I finally feel like there is truly something I can do to help, although I´m not sure exactly what that is yet still, but I´m getting closer everyday. After all of the goodness that had filled my life in the last 24 hours or so I sat down to dinner that night excited to talk to my family about Grandma´s Kids and then…I was served chicken feet, 4 of them, and some of their necks too. Ok, not the worst thing in the world that could´ve happened, this is true, but it was certainly a first for me. I didn´t take a picture out of courtesy to my host mother, I didn´t need to, the image is now conveniently burned into my brain forever. Nonetheless, I did not come all the way here to be some prissy American that doesn´t embrace new experiences so I shoved one of the claws (there are three toes by the way in case you were wondering) into my mouth trying to simply scrape the meat (is there even meat on chicken toes?) with my teeth and then the middle claw broke off into my mouth. Yep, that did it, I was done, I had been a good sport and now I was done. My host mother had pretty much the same reaction she had had with the fish (see previous blog entry) and gobbled up the remaining 3 feet along with the other pathetically partially eaten limb, what remained of my feeble attempt at reaching new cultural horizons.

Here´s one of the streets on my way to work.

Strides to Integration

Above left: This is the view from my kitchen to the backyard. That´s Pico Bonito your looking at.
Above right: Me and my little primito Ellis (cousin).

Cultural integration habits I am working on:

Eating every piece of meat off of a whole fried fish. This one was originally on my *have mastered* list, however I had to lessen my expertise ranking after dinner on Monday. When I passed over my plate of bones to be tossed out in the backyard and my host mother grabbed my fish head and rhetorically asked if it was mine to no one in particular, as she recognized this was certainly not any of her children´s doing, then she sunk her teeth into the skeleton for the remnants of the meat I had left behind. Did I mention this fish was probably caught an hour before we ate it? Definitely something I can work on.

Riding a bike, at least two at a time. While I haven´t tried this one yet, it takes me back to my childhood (Missy and me) when I see it. It´s very common to see adults doing it here, so I hope to have the opportunity to rehash this pastime. This is how it works, one person sits on the seat and pedals, the other person sits in from of the seat on the bar that connects the steering wheel and seat and steers. Talk about a task for trust and teamwork. Being a bit of a control freak I think this would be good therapy for me. I actually saw an entire family on one bike recently, Mom, Dad, young boy and baby in arms, I wouldnt have believed it if I didn´t see it.. It´s definitely a skill they have acquired, here, I´ve yet to see anyone even close to crashing.

Cultural integration habits I may never get down:

Chicharron. Those of you who know me well know that I am by no means a picky eater, in fact, I could probably benefit from being a little pickier. I tried to like chicharron, I really did. The first time tried they were served just like pork rinds, only they are much harder on the skin side and a little soft on the underside. Two such contrasting textures should not exist in one bite of anything, ever. I politely informed my host mother that I didn´t care for the popular skin treat I thought I was in the clear, then they served a meal after a meeting I attended and, I´m sure you´ve guessed by now, chichirron. This time it was served with yucca (a starchy root vegetable, much like a potato, which I do like) and warm cooked in a stew. The disguise did not fool my taste buds. Not wanting to be rude I choked down most of it, leaving a few bites for which I could not muster the strength.

Spitting. I´m not really sure what this one is all about yet, but so many people do it here. I´ve been trying to figure out if it´s from the dust or some sort of food staple that causes excess mucus production to rationalize it but have concluded that it´s just a bad habit like many have in the states. Part of my integration will not be picking up this habit.

Cultural integration habits which I have mastered:

Bucket baths. At this point I don’t even remember what a shower feels like, and have no desire for one. My morning bathing ritual includes a giant barrel of cold water in the bathroom and a little bowl used to scoop from the barrel onto my head and body. The bathroom is just one big open room with a toilet on one end then you stand at the other end by the barrel and just pour the water over you, soap up and rinse it off. Here´s a picture of our bathroom. Sandy, take deep breaths.

The lip point. This one is so simple and fun. In the states we use our fingers to point something out to someone, but in Honduras we use our lips. I know you want to try it, go ahead. Purse your lips like you{re kissing the air, but in the direction you want someone to look, also your eyes look in the same direction. Sometimes your lips curve around the corners of your mouth, sometimes they go straight up because it{s something behind you. You can even add your own twist, I personally like the eyebrow raise. I had witnessed the lip point for about 2 months until one day someone asked me where I lived and without even thinking about it gave the ole lip point as if I had been doing it my whole life.

Front porch sittin. I imagine in any country in the world this would be soothing to me, whether it be in the south in the states with a cold sweet tea or in Honduras with an icy chatamusca. I know, what is a chatamusca, right? It{s a popsicle in a bag. Pick a juice any juice, pour it in a little plastic bag, freeze it, then bite a hole in the bag to suck out the fruity goodness. There{s just something about passing the day or night with your family on the front porch as neighbors pass by enjoying each other and the environment that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. We talk and laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more. The relationships amongst family members here is something many Americans could take a lesson from. Hugging, smiling, listening, laughing, joking, touching, holding hands and really spending quality time together, habits that should be universally cultural in my opinion.

Me and my host mother, Marizta, also known as the maker of the best flour tortillas round these parts!

It´s official, I am a Peace Corps volunteer

It is cold here today, must be only 75 degrees. The whole month of October and most of November and December are cool with rain almost daily (I understand the relativity of this description and I imagine most of you are scoffing at me, deservedly so). It reminds me of early spring in northeast Ohio, only with palm trees and Hondurans rather than maples and Ohioans and without the remnants of that white stuff, what do you call that again? Funny how some things are so easily forgotten. I am now settling into my new home with ease and comfort. It is strange how natural it feels for me to be here, almost like something I did in another lifetime and I am just stepping back into this really familiar environment and taking over where I left off. While I was sad to see my new friends with whom I have spent the last 3 months training with go as we parted ways to our respective sites, I was also ready to start doing what I came here to do. You may ask, Jessica, what exactly is it you are there to do? My reply…I am figuring it out hour by hour, day by day, week by week. Every day another little piece of the puzzle comes to into the light, even if it is just a Spanish word I did not know the day before. Some pieces are bigger than others, yesterday for example the head of the Office for Ethnics (there are people of color here too, one prominent group in this area are the Garifunas) pulled me aside to discuss a latrine project he would like to see come to fruition during my time here. Next week we are going to take a ride out to the “campo”, which is what they call really rural areas of this country, to check out the sites. My role in this project will be to understand what they need, make a connection with funding sources that can make it happen, work along side them to write the grant, and offer any other support I am able. My role is as a development agent, developing people and their skills, not just do work for them. Besides, while I do know how to write grants (right Alan?!), my experience is in the United States and in English!! For me to attempt to write grants on behalf of the people in my community and the municipality would be futile. They obviously know more about their community and their language then I ever will, let alone after living here for one whole week. So what I can and will do is point them in the right direction, bring to their attention NGOs (non-governmental organization) they never knew existed that can help, give general guidance on grant writing and what lenders are looking for in projects and act as a task master to ensure the steps are being taken to accomplish the goals the people in my community have made for themselves. My work will also entail working in the schools with citizenship participation, teaching English and some health initiatives. Pretty good stuff huh? I sure think so. As I am now at my new residence, I have a new address for you to send mail (something I strongly suggest you do of course, I will happily return the correspondence):

Jessica Dillworth
El Porvenir, Atlatida
Barrio Nuevo
Honduras, Central America


These are for Kristin´s mom!! It´s so funny, lots of us have blogs, but some of us (I won´t mention any names Emily and Kristin) so I give them cameos in mine because their families read it. I love doing it!!

Thanks for taking this journey with me, I appreciate you checking in. I am glad to be able to share this time in my life with you.

Bienvenidos a El Porvenir Jessica!

You know it´s funny, over the last year I have been pondering where I would be living in Honduras and for some reason I never imagined it would be right on the Caribbean, but it is! This picture is about a 5 minute walk from the mayor´s office where I´ll be working a lot. My new home is about 20 kilometers west of La Ceiba, a large port city on the north coast. I had the opportunity to visit El Porvenir for four days and I have to tell you, I am totally psyched to officially begin my service, which will be on September 27, 2008. One of my counterparts, the mayor of El Porvenir picked me up in Zarabanda and we made the 6 hour drive together. When he said we were getting close I looked around and it looked just like something out of the book Where the Wild Things Are with huge palms towering over us. Next I saw, oh I don’t know, about a billion pineapples. El Porvenir is home to Standard Fruit Company, you know as in a little company called Dole. Needless to say there are acres and acres of pineapple fields just waiting to be shipped to you guys in the states, as one Honduran explained it. I was not able to get a picture yet of the pineapple fields, but do not worry, I have two years to get some great shots. This company serves as means of employment for many of the people in my site which is wonderful. So we were getting even closer and my new friend pulled up to this little stand that looked like the other corn stands I had seen in Honduras where you can get a piece of corn on the cob, but there was another little treat available too. I think he called them fritas, which literally translates to fried, and that they were. It was like cornbread which is heavenly anyway, but then fried crispy. Hmm, hmmm this place just keeps getting better and better. Well then of course we had worked up quite a thirst, so what do you do when you are thirsty in Honduras, why you drink coconut milk of course, and yes, you do it straight out a coconut. After we drank the milk, which was deliciously refreshing, the women selling them chopped them open and handed us a bent butter knife to scoop out the meat. Now I have never had fresh coconut, not this fresh, so it was fun for me. The flesh is sort of the texture of the white of a hard boiled egg, but a little more firm and the taste is subtle but scrumptious. What a great start to my first days, its like he knew the way to my heart was through my stomach. Has someone from home been talking to him??? Here´s picture of the restaurant my mayor runs. I had an amazing lunch there on Saturday, fried fish, plantains and coleslaw.

Here is a picture of the inside of the alcaldia I will be working with. I went there and met all of the staff and talked at length with the Community Development person about some of the projects they are working on. I got to take a field trip and see one, it was a tilapia farm. The government had given Hondurans funds to build such projects, projects that will create income for impoverished areas. An engineer and a couple of other concerned parties went out to the foot of Pico Bonitio (an unbelievable mountain, yes this is to my south and the Caribbean Sea is to my north, my new home is nestled in the middle, how luck am I!!!!) where a huge pit had been dug and thousands of little guppies were feeding. I didn’t understand a lot of what was said, but the engineer was happy with the progress and would report good things to the government. These are the types of things I am going to be involved with, great stuff. The other person I will be working with is from Canada and she does a lot with kids and health in the community. She has a beautiful home on the beach where I can work, someone pinch me!

As for my third and final host family, they are lovely. My host mother is Maritza, her husband is Don Jose and they have three children living at home, Onoria, Sandy and Oswaldo. Like my host family in Zarabanda I am the first American they have ever hosted (geez that´s a lot of pressure to make us all look good!). They are kind and spend lots of time together which is nice and relaxing. Yesterday for example we sat out in the back of the house and watched as a women tried to get her disobedient pigs to go home with her, they did not want to cooperate. Eventually she got them to go, squealing the whole way but she got em. Onoria works at the alcaldia with me and Sandy and Oswaldo are students. Don Jose works for Standard Fruit Company. They are kind family who I am looking forward to getting to know more.

So what is next? I will continue training until September 26 at which time we will be sworn in as volunteers. From there we will all go to our respective sites for our service. Wow, I have already been here for more than 2 months, it´s hard to believe. Stay posted for more pictures of my site and host family, I wasn´t able to get many on my short visit. Below are some random pics to tide you over. Thanks for checking in with me, I miss you all and think of you often. I will get you my new address just as soon as I figure it out, until then feel free to continue sending letters to the address in the second entry of my blog.

Here we are the day we found out which sites we were going to. They had a big party for us, it was great! The next one is of fisherman on the Caribbean. There there´s the forest of La Tigra, a mountain we climbed and hiked through a couple weeks ago. The other group picture is us at a birthday party for 2 of the Muni D girls. Finally there is a picture of my friend Elizabeth who was my roommate the very first night we were in DC. She is from Nashville and we bonded immediately. Her site is in a pine forest so I can´t wait to visit here there.

10 days until I find out where I will be living for the next 2 years!!

Seeing how Honduras was the original Banana Republic, how could I not post a picture of me posing with a beautiful bunch. This is in Siguatapeque at a farm where we learned about sustainable farming. This farm was amazing because everything they did was integrated and nothing went to waste. They catch the rain water, purify some for drinking and use the rest for watering crops and feeding animals. They use the waste of the animals to enrich the soil for the crops (beans, vegetables, herbs and such). There were some sophisticated latrines and they showed us some planting techniques like rotating crops and using contour lines for irrigation. They demonstrated some pretty savvy farming techniques which will serve as a good base for us to take with us to our individuals sites and possibly apply.

This one is for you, Emilie´s mom! This is Emilie and I hanging out after training one day being silly. Her hair is super cute, but her bangs were getting quite long as you can see. She recently paid 10 Lempiras, or the equivalent of 50 cents to get her hair cut. The result…. as seen in the next picture, definitely worth 50 cents. Some say it looks like a wig, she thought maybe Ringo Starr or possibly the beginning stages of a mullet. Any way you slice it, it has created hours of entertainment for us at her expense, but she is such a good sport about it, after all, it is just hair, it will grow back. Some days my sides hurt from laughing with Emilie so much.











Only ten more days until we find out where we are going to be living for the next two years. Like most other things here, I am eerily calm about this. I figure wherever they send me I will be happy, find good work and get along with the people. I am hoping to be placed somewhere central in the country to be able to get to pretty much anywhere semi-easily. Stay tuned, the next time I blog it will be to reveal the name of my new home then you can Google it to see what it´s like. Thanks for following my story, I love sharing it with you.

Carne Asada, Honduran style!

My new home for the next 6 weeks is Cantarranas, a rather small pueblo a couple of hours from Tegucigalpa. Here I will do FBT (field-based training). What does that mean you might ask, well it means that our three groups have split up by project and me and my fellow Municipal Developers will get more in depth training on what we may actually be doing in our respective sights. Por ejemplo, oops, I mean for example, today we split up into 4 groups and walked around Cantarranas noting what we encountered, pulperias (little stores), churches, schools and other landmarks and businesses. Our entire group came together and created a map of our findings, a community map of Cantarranas. Here’s a picture of us putting it all together, quite a resourceful little crew we have here.

The only thing that would make this picture more Peace Corpsy would be if I was wearing my Tevas sandals right? Oh and maybe if I were planting some trees, but I think it does justice to what people think of when they picture a Peace Corps volunteer. Here it is, honest to God proof that I’m here in the mountains of Honduras fumbling through what might be the most pivotal journey of my life. You are all witnesses.

My new family for the next 6 weeks is very kind, my host mother is, once again, named Patricia and she has two children, Patricio who is 14 and Zasquia who is 18. I’m a big fan of carne asada, so when Patricia asked me if I liked it I was excited about dinner, though once the preparations began I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. Pictured here are the boyfriend of Zasquia, Wally I think is his name, and his friend along with Patricia (and yes, she is holding a blow dryer) and Jose, Patricia’s grandson. So they started the fire with some wood and other chips of some sort, got it nice and piping hot and started in with the hair dryer, which I now understand worked as agent to blow air onto the coals, making them extremely hot. They added sugar onto the coals and laid the meat on the grill after the flames went down. Mmmm, mmm, muy delicioso (come on, all of you know what that means)!!

Here´s what I´ve been up to

Alejandra and I made lasagna the other night, here is the fruit of our labor. It was pretty good, Javier had two portions, but he may have just been being polite. It was fun to show them something I know how to make after watching them make some great Honduran food for the past couple of weeks.




Mi familia, Javier, Patricia and Alejandra. I can´t tell you how much I really feel a part of their family. I hope to come back to visit them often while I´m here. They told me that I their home is my home during my entire service in their country.
This is a group of trainees that live by me and we walk home together. Starting from the left, Shannon, Emily, Daniel, Micheal, Kevin and Amanda.










When I visited a volunteer in Choluteca the town was in feria, which means a bunch of events take place, for instance rodeos. This "stadium" was built in a day just for this purpose. The hombres rode horses instead of bulls and it was pretty cool to watch.














Choluteca is pretty flat for the most part, but here´s a neat picture of a mountain nearby














Carmen (the volunteer I visited) and Casey a fellow trainee that visiting Carmen with me.















I think I should submit this one to national geographic if I do say so myself. I love this one.

July 26, 2008

This is our group (50) having breakfast our first morning in Honduras. There are three projects, mine which is Municipal Development, Child Development and Protected Areas Management.


So I got a little treat today and was able to get online for a little while. Training is chugging along. This weekend we go to live with a current volunteer for three days. I am going to the south to Choluteca with another trainee in my group. I am looking forward to the break and seeing what a real live volunteer lives like.

I would be lying if I said I didn´t have moments where I freak out a little, but the people here are wonderful so that makes this adjustment process a little easier. My family and I talked for hours last night, about real issues like immigration, the state of Honduras economically and the way we do things in the U.S. What an insightful conversation, I never would have guessed my Spanish was good enough to express myself on these topics, but I am surprising myself everyday here.

I am making my family an American meal tonight, lasagna! Don´t have ricotta cheese (at least at the market I went to) so I´ll let you know how that turns out.