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!