An Honest Entry

Living in Honduras is a beautify experience. I love the painting of the cows grazing on the countryside, the farmers in their white curved hats, and the children running to school in their white and blue uniforms. The best part of it is that I get to spend every moment of the day with my dream man. We work together, we play together, we travel together, we share everything together and being so intense with another person has its own beauty in itself. But then there are days that I wake up and I yearn more than ever than to see my family just for an hour, just for a moment. When I miss them so much, it makes everything seem upside down. I always question my place in life, the trails I have chosen. When there are so many trails I could chose from, of course I am bound to ponder the ones that I left only with a glance-- Like the famous Robert Frost poem about the road untaken. So I will leave this message short because really there isnt much to say. Sometimes intense feelings are like that. I can ramble and ramble trying to find the perfect match of words, but really there just arent any as strong as the feeling itself. I miss you all so much. All of you that I dance with, that I drink with, I play cards with, that I stay up late with, that I talk with, that I laugh with... Family and friends, I miss you. Just remember that you are thought of.

¿Do you want to learn English?

It is early on a Monday morning when we walk up the gravel hill from our little yellow and red house to the elementary school. I pass a group of giggling little girls in their lovely navy blue pleated skirts and their white uniform shirts, late to school. When we enter the school yard, we are overwhelmed with the swarm of students that buzz around us chasing each other, yelling "Hello," in a heavy Spanish accent, and the majority that just do the double S (Stand and Stare). I briefly talk to the director of the school, my insides twist and turn at his prescence. A man with fluffy white curly hair, soiled rumpled blue jeans, and a half unbuttoned striped shirt, he reminds me of a clown I might see in the movies. He stands behind a cardboard table selling candies, lard layden potato chips. This is the man that is in charge of educating the youth of Moroceli. The neighbors tell me that he hits children that buy snacks from any of the dear mothers selling tortillas and beans outside the fence. They are only allowed to fill his pockets with their Honduran dimes and dollars. I feel like spitting at him, but instead I decide it would be more proper to shake his hand and say, "Buenos Dias." He greets me breifly and abruptly asks me what I want. Just two weeks ago before our vacation, I was arriving every Wednesday with a group of highschool students to teach English to the fifth and sixth graders and each and every time he told us that he was too busy. Never once did he consider notifying me in advance. "We are only here visiting. I would like to invite all the fourth, fifth, and sixth graders to an English club that we are having every Wednesday at one o´çlcok in the High school." He shook his head and told me, "Go ahead." "Thank you for your help," I stated, even though he didnt even move so much as an inch from his candy stand to introduce me to the classes. I walked into the crammed fourth grade classroom and I yelled to them enthusiastically (asking in Spanish, of course) "Who wants to learn English?" All of the children raised their hands. "Good Morning," I stated and told them to repeat after me. A few brave souls mumbled the morning greeting. Unsatisfied, I repeated it once more even louder, "Good MORNING!" I proceeded to invite them to the English Club on Wednesday at one in the high school and announced that they had to bring three things to the first meeting. Number one, a notebook to write English notes, number two a pencil to write with, and number three an adult to sign the student in for only the first class. I entered six classes (Two sections of each grade), and repeated the same speach to each. The following Wednesday, the high school was filled with about ninety little monsters wanting to learn English. Only a handfull of them brought an adult, and all of them brought a pencil and a notebook. Three of my High schoolers showed up and helped with the signup. I continue to teach my small group of volunteer high school students How to teach English to children with games, songs, and English grammar. This project is my best project going to far because it is sustainable. I will keep you all updated on how it continues, but before I close I have just one question for you! DO YOU WANT TO LEARN ENGLISH? I will see you at one, on Wednesday, in the high school!!! While I am just joking about that I really do send you all my love and hugs, Teresa

Adios Amigos

Steve put his arm out offering it to the swarm of taxi drivers passing by. One took catch, pulled over. "How much to take us to the airport," Steve asked, in Spanish if course. "One hundred Lempiras," the taxi driver replied. "No, very expensive. Sixty," Steve demanded. "Seventy," the man argued. "Sixty," Steve stood firm. "Fine, sixty," the taxi man finally agreed. Our two awesome friends hopped in the back seat of the taxi cab, gifting us with two last firm hugs, a few tears and a gentle, "See you later." In just an hour their flight will take off and they will be headed back to their routine of life in Montreal, Quebec. In just an hour we will be headed on a bus to a town called Moroceli in Honduras. Usually after a vacation ends we find ourselves in the airport as well headed back to our family because home to me is where my family ends. This year it is different, we are headed back to our two bunnies and our little cozy home in a dusty foreign town. really though, it is not so foreign and I do admit that I look forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. In a strange sort of way it feels like home. It will be interesting to see how the community treats us after being away for two weeks on vacation when very few of them will ever have the opportunity to have a vacation and see even parts of their own country let alone Guatemala or the caribean sea in Belize. I will end with a see you later. I miss you and Love you all. And on a speical note to Cristiane and Didier when you read this, thank you for two wonderful weeks that were so special to us. We will never forget them.

I FOUND NEMO!

I remember glancing at the bright colored fishies in my sixth grade Biology book. They looked like cartoons out of a Disney movie. Definately my favorite moment of yesterday was going snorkling off the Belizian coast and seeing the bright orange, neon blue, lime green, colored fish and swimming in schools of them in the turquoise Caribean waters. Yes, I finally found Nemo! The Biology book pictures of the Marine fish are now a part of my own memory. I love it!