This and That

This was sent to me by my friend Kimberly Forse after she found out I had an older silver percolator coffee pot. My mawmaw always made her coffee in one but I had no idea how it worked. Thanks to her I have brewed the most amazing Honduran coffee in my little silver pot. So for anyone needing to know how one works here it is…..Thanks Kimberly

1)  Fill the percolator with water to below the line on the stem where the filter basket will rest.

2)  Put the filter basket in place

3)  Add one heaping tablespoon of coffee for each cup of water in the pot.

4)  Fit the basket lid into place inside the percolator

5)  Here’s where we branch off in two directions. – If you are using an electric percolator, plug it in and turn it on. The coffee pot is now on its own until its done perking. If you are using a stove top percolator, put it over a low flame to heat the water. As soon as the first splurt of coffee hits that little glass bubble, turn the heat down.

For both electric and stovetop pots:

6)  Watch the pot carefully and as soon as it stops perking, remove it from the heat.

Being careful not to scald yourself, remove the lid of the percolator and remove the entire filter stem from the pot. If you leave it in there, the steam from the coffee will continue to condense, drip over the spent coffee grounds and drip into your coffee.

Also, here's a little bit of "history" on percolators - how they're put together and such:

A coffee percolator consists of five parts. There is the percolator coffee pot, into which you put your coffee. There is the stem, a hollow metal tube that fits into the bottom of the pot. In non-electric percolators, it has a flat, round bottom. There is the filter basket, which slides onto the tube and holds the ground coffee. There is the filter basket cover, a round perforated lid that fits on top of the filter basket and makes sure that the water showers the entire basket of coffee evenly. Finally, there is the coffee pot lid, which often has a glass bubble in it. The glass bubble just might be the most fun part of the entire contraption. It lets you watch the coffee splurting up from the tube and splashing inside before it spills back down onto the lid.

Some experiences

On Tuesday we watched a riot/protest on the street below our window. The market vendors were protesting a tax that the government had hit them with. Later I saw it on the news. I videoed it, too. Wednesday morning about 4:15 we were woke up with gunshots. It was the scariest thing. I jumped up and looked out the window and it was the same place where the riot had taken place. I was terrified when I saw the men walking down the street looking for someone....then I saw the guns in their hands. I was looking down on them when they looked up and saw me looking down on them. Waylon said for us all to just go lay in our beds and we would be safe because we would not get hit if we were laying down because our walls were cement and the beds were below the windows....scccccaaaaarrrryyyy!!!! Later in the day when the maids came we found out that those men were the guards trying to prevent a robbery. Apparently the protesters came back later….I later found out that there were people trying to break into the government building to steal some paperwork or something.

Just a side note….

I would like to thank Mothers Memorial for the great washer and dryer set that Lycia has been blessed with. I have the privilege of using it these few weeks. I also would like to say how much I appreciate my double sink in my kitchen in Texas. Everyone that we all know has 2 sinks in their kitchen. In my apartment here in Honduras I have 1 sink and a drying board…….

Today I took Ashlyn to the “salon” to get her birthday pedicure. I want you to imagine all those relaxing massage chairs you have sat in while you get your pedicure and the music playing softly in the background. Now forget all that and imagine this……. We stepped onto the elevator and rode one floor up and we were there. They lead us back into a room they had set up for our pedicures(earlier I had went up and told them “dos pedicures”). They had 2 comfy computer chairs side by side. For our feet, they had put a hospital like pan, inside a white trash bag, for a liner. Then as we sat down they filled the pan with water they had heating in a water/trash can…the can was clean. They told us to relax so we did….we “reclined” our chairs. Then they propped our feet on their legs and got to work. The surroundings may have been a little primitive but I will have to say that we in no way did we get a second rate pedicure. There was no chatter of other patrons, no door chimes, and no television noise. The view was incredible. We were on the top floor of the apartment building and we looked out over the entire city, with mountains in every view. Ashlyn got her first eyebrow wax for $3…..it was a first class job. We walked out with a day full of memories and only $30 lighter.

Today we went to the spa type thing up stairs. It was so much fun. Me and mom each got a pedicure that was an hour long including the massage. But when they filed my feet it tickled so much. They did everything better than the states or at least just as good. They just improvised a little. When you walk into an American salon they put you in a massage chair with a jacuzzi for your feet only. But here you sit in a desk chair that reclines. You put your feet in a barf bucket covered with a garbage bag. They put water from a heated garbage can on your feet with bath salts. Then I got my eyebrows waxed. It was so freaky but I did not yell.-ashlyn.

Don’t slam the door!

The property that the central church in Tegucigalpa owned (in conjunction with the Bible school) was located in an area that had gotten to be unsafe.  So they sold it and are currently in the process of acquiring new property.  In the meantime, they rent a building for a few hours for the Sunday service.  The mid-week service is done in small groups in peoples houses.  I got to go to one of the “grupos pocos” last night.  It was a really great experience.

Although, there are church members at the small groups, the focus is on outreach and there are a lot of people there who were just invited and don’t belong to the church.  The group is led by a member of the church.  It’s an interesting concept.  For the midweek service at least It puts the focus on working and not simply attendance.

The man who another brother (Hmo. Josue) and I were going to ride with had a last minute emergency and couldn’t drive.  We had to take a taxi.  This is a big deal.  There are two kinds of taxis: “collectivo” (English = very unsafe) and “directo” (engish = might be safe).  The taxis collectivos take you where you are going, but they can stop along the way and pick up other people as much as they want to as long as everyone is generally going in the same direction.  There have been instances of the taxi driver being in cahoots with someone else that he picks up along the way after picking up three of four other passengers.  Then they take them all out somewhere and rob them.  This had happened before to Hmo. Josue.  So we weren’t taking a taxi collectivo.  The taxis directos take you alone to where you are going without stopping for anyone else.  There’s still some danger but not as much.  I was instructed to basically not take anything along for the ride.  No cell phone, camera, wallet, driver’s license, anything.  I took my Bible and 470 lempiras ($23).  Had I known we were taking at taxi I would have worn worse clothes.  I was wearing slacks and a long sleeve business shirt.  They told me “Don’t talk in the cab.  They’ll know you are American.  Just pray in the cab . . . Silently.”  (I’ve been told I could pass for Honduran.  There’s a pretty wide range of skin color here.)  Hmo. Josue would do all the talking to the cab driver so I wouldn’t have to say anything.

The taxi ride both to and from the house was uneventful.  I guess we got safe drivers.  A funny thing happened though that I didn’t find out about until the ride was over.  When we got out and were standing on the curb, Hmo. Josue was trying to tell me something about shutting the door so hard.  I couldn’t understand everything he said, but I did get the gist that I had shut the door too hard.  Turns out, when I first got in the back seat and shut my door the driver said “Don’t shut the door so hard.”  Of course I didn’t know this because I didn’t understand what he said (or even know that he was talking to me).  And Hmo. Josue couldn’t  tell me because then it would be obvious that I was American.  And I hadn’t shut it any harder than normal.  Just the way I usually close a door.  Then when we arrived at our destination, I got out and without knowing it shut it even harder apparently.  The driver thought I was being spiteful because he had said something before.  He said something else and drove off.  I guess I was he rude American without even knowing it.

Once we got back to the Shcreck’s house I learned that it’s a culture thing to not shut the car door very hard here.  They hold it about 5 inches open and press it closed.  Sis. Lycia told me she’s had to get out and re-shut the door a number of times because the car would beep when they didn’t shut it hard enough.  I thought I was just making sure it was closed.  Anyway, one of those funny cultural things that you could never have predicted. 

We got to the house for the “grupo poco”.  It was a great experience that I’m glad I didn’t miss.  First, to go inside these people houses is quite a privilege (they think it’s a privilege to have you there too).  This was the house of the owner of a little store, so it was pretty nice by Honduran standards.  If I had to guess I would say it was still not bigger than 500 sq ft.  Cement floors, plaster walls, all bare, all mismatched furniture, couch, table and chairs.  If you’ve ever been to your grandmother’s house that was built in 1920 or something, this wouldn’t be quite that nice. 

We had the Bible lesson which was given by Hmo. Josue.  The Honduran church is a pretty mature church and the local preachers here are quite good.  I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the lesson and could follow most of it (Tal Como Esta).  When it was over the lady of the house fed us a traditional Honduran meal (beans, rice, tortillas, fried yuca).  It was great.

The kitchen area was interesting.  It was raining and there was a pipe coming from the roof with water just pouring into a big tub.  The tub wasn’t large enough to hold it so from this overflow and from other places water just runs all over the floor.  The whole house is made of cement etc (no sheetrock) so things getting wet doesn’t matter.  In this tub she had 7 turtles as pets (one she had had for 12 years – they ate dog food).  She had a green parrot, 3 love birds, a dove and a cat.  All this in the kitchen. 

I wish I could have taken pictures.  Might would have been rude anyway, but it was great to see how other people live.  Seems like the best experiences we haven’t been able to capture on camera because it hasn’t been safe to take one. 

She had 15 kids, only the youngest still living there.  I guess they all lived in that little place at some point. 

Lost in Translation

Having the service translated this morning gave rise to a couple of funny stories about missionaries first learning that language here.  It doesn’t take much to really mess up.  You can be off just one little sound, but the meaning changes by miles.

First, when Bro. Daniel Schreckhise came here years ago, his first sermon was called “The Great Message”.  In Spanish “Grande Mensaje”.  Only one problem, he didn’t say “mensaje”.  He said “masaje” which doesn’t mean message; it means “massage”.  And he didn’t just say it once; he said it over and over.  Everyone needs the Great Massage.  Lawyers need the great massage.  Doctors need the great massage.  The rich and the poor equally need the great massage.  At the end, he of course invited all who wanted to receive the great massage to come forward.  LOL.  I guess that’s one way to build a church quickly.  Because of course the great massage is free.

Another story.  Shortly after Sis. Lycia first came to Honduras and was still mastering the language, the pastor Hmo. Benino got pretty sick.  At church one Sunday morning, she wanted to ask his wife if her husband was better – “Es su esposa mejor?”  But she accidentally changed the last word around a little bit and asked instead “Es su esposa mujer?”  Mujer means woman, so instead of asking if her husband was better, she asked if he was a woman.  Of course the pastor’s wife answers no that her husband was not a woman.  Sis. Lycia is thinking “Oh no, he’s not better” so she says “Oh, I’m so sorry.”  And it goes round and round “No, it’s OK that he isn’t a woman” – Sis. Lycia thinking “Why is it OK with this woman that her husband isn’t better?”  20 years later they still laugh about it.  Occasionally, the pastor will still come up and say “I’m not a woman.”

Similar things happen occassionally even with people speaking in their native language.  I once heard of a young evangelist who preached the entire sermon on having a "Lion's Grit".  When it was over, the pastor took him aside and kindly showed him that we are to have our loins girt about with truth (Eph 6:14), not a lion's grit!

Sunday service

Had service at the "central" church in Tegucigalpa this morning with Pastor Benino.  Great service.  One lady received the Holy Ghost.  I preached 95% in English.  Bro. Brad translated.  I was brave enough to read the text in Spanish (3 verses – the Bible makes for some pretty tough Spanish words IMO) and sprinkle about 4 spanish sentences throughout (pre-written and well-practiced sentences).  It was a really great service though.  The last song in the worship service was a chain of songs.  All really fast and great.  I remember one of the songs from when the Spanish church was together with us at Royalwood.  Here are a few videos.  Sorry for the extremely poor sound quality.  They play their music really loud.  There's a lot of peaking and crackling from the iphone recording. 

The altar service was great.  It's amazing because it reminds me so much of an altar service in the states.  Even though it’s another country and another culture, you can see all the same emotions, same tears, same yielding or maybe holding back.  It’s just amazing how even though I don’t speak the language of these people or know anything about them, the altar service feels like a well worn glove.

After service back at our apartment, we got on the elevator to come back up.  It stuck.  We were only stuck inside for about 3 minutes, but that was enough.  We’ll all the taking the stairs from now on.  We’re only 5 floors up. 

Joy's trip to the market

I knew I was going to the market with Lycia today.  We were leaving at 8am so I got up and got dressed like I was going out to do some shopping in the US.  On her way to my apartment, she called me and said to dress in my worst clothes, worst shoes, and don't do my hair nice.  I didn't have anything super-nice on but apparently it was way too good for the market. I put on my worst jean skirt, old flip flops, and slicked my hair in a bun.  If people at the market see you are dressed nice, you are a target for theives following you when you leave and mug you.  They may even do it right there.  Anything that you don't want to lose or give up, don't take to the market.  I had wanted to take a camera and cell phone in to take a few pictures, but I didn't get to (so sorry). Even the little square that shows up in my pocket is a give away that I'm carrying something valuable. 

We went to the safest outdoor market in the city (correct me if I’m wrong . . . or don’t lol), but before we got there I was coached on how to behave if we were held up. Give them ANYTHING they ask for. So I walk into the market without anything that was valuable visible. Oh yes, I had money but you could not see it. It was wrapped up in a napkin and hidden safely – you figure it out.  I got to be pretty good at not carrying a purse in fact it was very liberating. Look out Houston….lol.

Once we got in the market, it was one of the prettiest things I have ever seen. There were piles of fresh fruits and vegetables on tables and on the ground everywhere I looked. The booths were nothing but tarps very crudely tied on poles that looked like tall sticks. Once again the locals were dressed very warmly in winter hats, scarves, and jackets on this beautiful 60-65 degree day.

The fruits and vegetables were in the front by the entrance and the meat market was in the back. This gives a whole new meaning to the words meat market. Each vendor had their own stall with concrete walls and an open front. The meat was hanging out for display on large hooks so you could have your pick. We went to the seafood part first. The smell was overwhelming but if you breathed very lightly it was bearable. I bought some fresh fish there, not sure of the name though. After the seafood area we went to the meat area. WOW is all I can say. There were huge cuts of beef, pork, and who knows what else, just kidding. We made our way to a stall where one of the church members sells meat. We bought several things from here. Lycia bought about 12 cuts of meat that are equal to a filet mignon, pork ribs, stew meat and maybe some more things. They kept all their cuts in a huge deep freeze. Very different for sure.  Sanitation is non-existent.  The same hands that they use to cut and package the raw, bloody meat, they use (without washing) to take your money and make change.  One of the guys selling meat wanted us to taste some salsa that he was selling.  He dipped the knife that he had been using to cut the meat into the salsa bowl and offered for us to taste it off of it.  Lycia laughingly refused.  He laughed and flicked the salsa into his mouth.  I felt like I needed to take a bath in hand sanitizer when I left. 

There were young boys for hire (tips) pushing open sided wheel barrows around hoping you would get them to push your purchases around the market for you. We hired a couple of young boys from their church to do this for us. At one point when they passed by a man, the man grabbed his leg and fell down.  Lycia said "Just keep walking and don't look at him."  He was faking like the boys pushing our stuff injured him.  Not quite sure of the motive.  Maybe he was hoping we would feel sorry for him and give him money on the spot. 

At the produce stands I bought melons, cantaloupe, grapefruit, tangerines, plantains, mini bananas, litchis, pineapple, tomatoes, avocados, cilantro, onion, bell pepper, carrots, and cabbage. There is a great kind of fruit there called a litchi.  It's red and looks sort of hairy on the outside.  It really doesn't look like anything you could eat, but it's become one of our favorite fruits here.  You take your thumb and poke thru the skin and there's a seed covered in white, slimy fruit.  Has about the consistency of snot.  Tastes good though.

After the market we went to the grocery store. We waited in line for donuts for about 20 minutes. They were so worth it.

I don’t have any pictures, but the memories will never fade. It was awesome.

I've got everything ready for church tomorrow.  The snack bag is packed.  The diaper bag is packed.  And I've got my roll of toilet paper. 

 

Ashlyn's account of her trip to the market today

Today we went to the market.  It was open air, but parts of it STUNK. There was fresh fruits, veggies, and flowers. It was really cool - only the meat and seafood part of it was stinky and kinda’ gross. If you get grossed out easily you would HATE it. There was raw meat hanging in giant slabs you cut straight off the cow. There was also entire pig’s feet and entire cows tongue. There were big bloody, raw slabs of meat everywhere you look. There were also scrawny dogs begging for raw meat scraps. But that is not all. They had liver. As for the seafood part, there was live crabs, fish with there eyes still in, and fish heads siting in a basket. The raw slabs of fish and beef were sitting on giant slabs of ice. But that was not even bad compared to the thieves - not that we got robbed or anything. But if anybody came up to you and put a gun to your back you better give them what they want. I mean what if they wanted your clothes blahhhhhhhh. My mom said she would hide behind the melon pile. -  Ashlyn

Light

It gets light here REALLY early and dark here really early.  It's dark by 5:30.  Completely.  So by the time it's 8:00, it feels more like 10.  I can't tell you the number of times we've looked at the clock and night and thought, "Wow, it's only 8:00.  It seems like midnight."

It starts getting light at 5 and is fully bright by 5:30.  This makes it VERY hard to sleep late.  Especially since the windows have thin curtains.  The room is completely lit very early.  I've been having a hard time sleeping past 6.  I decided to attach the problem aggresively.  Determined to defeat the problem, I stole the curtains from the living area and put them double on the bedroom window.  When the light started creeping in the morning, I put a pillow over my head and forced myself back to sleep.  I did this several times determined to make myself sleep late.  I dozed on and off several times.  Finally, I woke up a little more and decided that should be enough, so I got up.  I looked at the clock.  6:12.  :(

From a woman’s point of view

The Food

On Sunday we ate at the steakhouse El Patio.  The food was very authentic and very good. They brought beans, string cheese and salsa along with chips. This was brought in a little clay pot over hot coals, so it never got cold.  They serve tortillas with all of this. You can put any combination of this on a tortilla and it is incredible. They also brought out the most amazing salsa and pickled vegetables.  All of this was compliments of El Patio. Next, they brought out the meal we actually ordered. We ordered 1 entrée and 5 people split it. It was a lot of food.

We have had awesome experiences at all of the places we have eaten. We went to Pollo Campero (Country Chicken).  It was just basic fried chicken but very good fried chicken. Pollo Tropical was a great place to eat. We had fried yuca (the root) which was incredible. We also had plantains. We love those.  The beans here are usually served whole as opposed to refried.  They are the best beans in the world.

All of the restaurants around here have huge indoor playgrounds. I am assuming it is because there are no parks like we have in the states. This morning we walked to Burger King for breakfast so the kids, Lucas especially, could get out some energy on their playground.

Everywhere you go there are guards with sawed off shotguns. It is a little unsettling but at the same time safe to have an armed guard at BK. At every fast food place they open the door for you like you were eating at the finest steakhouse.

The weather

Last night a cool front blew in. It was not cold to us but the people here had on winter hats and coats. It was only 55 last night. At BK this morning about 10 we saw a family with coats and scarves on. At that point it was only 60. It was quite a site. I guess when you have temperatures in the 70’s all the time 55 is cold.

The Language

Here are a couple of experiences with the language I have had. This morning at BK I wanted grape jelly so I thought I could just relay the words for grape to the cashiers. Well, I went to the counter and started using my 1 word and a lot of hand gestures. Finally they just started shaking their heads no. They never really understood what I meant and I have never felt like crying over grape jelly until this morning.  It is a totally helpless feeling when you can’t speak the language. It really motivates you to learn.

Every day we have Zelma and Cindy come and tidy up the rooms. I have noticed we always need extra washrags. Well. I decided to ask for some more. I used the word trapo for rags. They in return pointed to a rag and asked me “otra?”  I thought they were telling me “no, it’s an otra.” In reality otra means another. So I kept saying otra over and over because I was so proud of my word. I was not asking for a rag I was asking for another, another, another. Waylon and I laughed and laughed.

We are having a great time. Everything is such an awesome experience. A few days ago the owner of the apartments came up and offered us the use of the playground and all the other amenities like soccer with his children.  He said Ashlyn and Brayden could even attend school with his children. We took the kids to play at the playground yesterday and after we wound our way through the sheets on the clothesline we found the playground on the roof. It was a metal swing set on concrete. It is amazing how they were so proud to offer our kids what they had.

What do you REALLY believe?

While waiting for the container the other day, we got into a discussion about religious freedom.

It seems the government is requiring the United Pentecostal Church to join some sort of ecumenical organization. Although all of the implications of that are not clear, it is clear that it is something they would not choose to do on their own. One of the implications is that the church board would be required to be turned over completely every 4 years, presumably to facilitate government intervention.  There is also a law here in Honduras that all female children attending public schools and all women working in public are required to wear pants which violates our beliefs.

It's interesting to observe what kinds of emotions this kind of thing raises in an American - myself. The idea of government intervention in any aspect of religion is so foreign to us.  Whether we agree with the action in question or not, we bristle at the thought of being "made" to do anything. The reaction in my gut is something like this: "It’s so unfair. Just take them to court and sue. No one can dictate what you can and can't wear. Justice will be done."  - a perfectly logical way of thinking in the States. We have the legal framework and constitution for this to be possible. In Honduras it's not so simple. While there is always the possibility of negotiations, greasing palms, whatever to get to the place you want, there is simply no guarantee that in the end things will go your way.  So what then?  The concept of true justice and right always winning in the end is so engrained in our minds as Americans that we rarely stop to think about what would happen if we were literally forbidden to - or at least had serious consequences for - practicing our faith as we believe it. 

If you subscribe to the belief that you don't truly know what you believe until that belief is tested, then do any Americans truly know what they believe?  Our thought pattern is "it's my right to believe this and do this. If I'm challenged, I'll fight until I win. The authorities will eventually end up on my side." But what if they don't?  Do you really believe what you say you do enough to stick with it in the midst of seriously adverse circumstances? 

Our thinking tends to be "if i do what's right God will look out for me and make sure that everything is smooth sailing." Our minds don't often stretch to the point of "maybe this is a test of my faith. If I truly believe this with all my heart, I'll be loyal regardless of adverse circumstances."  It is just assumed that before it gets to that point, someone - God himself, legal authority, whoever - will intervene.

So thats the question for today. What do you truly believe?  If the heat got turned up, which beliefs would you be willing to abandon? Of course we'd all like to believe the answer is none. But if we search deeply, we may find that we are willing to give a little on our "less important" beliefs. As long as you were allowed to keep the main part of your beliefs would you be wiling to compromise in modesty of dress or cleanness of your language and conduct?  If you would give up those things, what makes you think you would stop there? If you kept being pushed maybe you'd keep giving in until the very belief that Jesus is the one true God was gone.

I always tell my kids "how you perform on your tests in school is not determined during testing time. It is determined by the effort that you put into it before the test actually gets here.  Once testing time comes, your fate is sealed. Prep time is over. Its time to perform."  Maybe this is true for all of us.  Don't wait for the challenge to your belief to arrive. Decide now what you believe. Through prayer and study of the word, find the truth. Convince your self that it is THE truth. Then believe it with all your heart. And when the test comes, don't waver. Simply act out what you've already prepared for.

Road crews

The condition of the roads varies widely here.  In some places they are as good as in the States (better than the Dummy Line Road that I was raised on in Louisiana - shout out to Winnsboro).  In other places, they are pretty bad.  When the rain comes down off the mountains, it washes the roads away in some places leaving a dirty, rocky surface that is severely bumpy.  Un/underemployment runs about 36% here so people are always looking for ways to make a little money.  At these places where the road is damaged, men and even little boys will come out and fill these places with rocks and dirt.  Then they'll stand in the middle of the road by the place that they fixed and try to collect money for their work. 

Day 2, November 1, 2010

Today we are traveling from the capital, Tegucigalpa, to a town on the northern coast, Puerto Cortez, to pick up the container that was shipped from the US almost three weeks ago.  Apparently the port is being investigated for corruption so everything is taking longer than usual – even by Latino time standards.  I helped load it in the US and now I’m here to help pick it up and load.  I’m glad it was late because it gave me an opportunity to go to the coast so soon.  (Note from the future: This trip would eventually take 2 full days.  Getting access to the container took about 35 phone calls.  We met up with a local pastor there, Hmo. Juan Carlos Garcia, pastor in San Pedro Sula.  He handled all the phone conversations.  Bro. Schreckhise could have easily done that but when port officials see that an American is involved they want more money. J  We spent a lot of time waiting in the truck over those two days.  We eventually got the container and got back to Tegucigalpa after midnight on Tuesday night.)   

Contrast

Honduras is about 80% mountains.  Tegucigalpa itself is built in the middle of a bowl that is surrounded by mountains.  I don’t think there’s a flat piece of ground in the whole city.  The drive was constant turning and constant ups and downs. 

The drive to Puerto Cortez was a strange mix of beauty and poverty.  The countryside is amazingly beautiful – more than I’ll be able to describe here and in some ways more beautiful than any I’ve seen in the US.  It’s rainy season now so the mountains are covered with green.  It makes for some really beautiful sights.  On the mountain roads you can see so far, can look down over cities.  It’s really relaxing on the eyes.  You can feel the stress melting away.  It’s been my favorite part of the trip so far.

All along the way there are little shanties built in groups along the mountain side.  They are extremely small and poorly constructed with whatever is available.  They are built right on the side of the mountain.  Often the people who live there are squatters.  They just build wherever they find a spot.  The contrast is that the people who live there are in EXTREME poverty but they have the richness of a natural beauty right out their window.  Land with views like this would go for mega-bucks in the US. 

Driving

Driving (or riding in my case) is quite an experience in Honduras.  I am not exaggerating when I say that it seems that there are no traffic laws.  Everything that I would have thought would be a traffic law I’ve seen broken many times in one short trip.  (The concept of traffic cops doesn’t really exist here.  The only time I’ve seen police so far is when a truck full of armed policias passed us to retake the main exit out of town that had been taken over by protestors.  They have more important things to worry about than traffic laws.)  Mainly it seems people just try not to run into each other and everything else is fair game.  The concept of lanes is pretty fluid.  We were coming southbound down a mountain and we turned two lanes into three on a mountainside today.  We were passing another southbound 18-wheeler on a mountain road when we met another from the north.  The two southbound trucks moved to the outside and the northbound truck went in between us.  Nobody seemed to think it was a big deal.  Although the driving here is insane, there’s no rage or indignation like in the US when someone breaks the “rules”. 

Bro. Schreckhise is a master at this kind of driving, cutting all sorts of corners, passing in crazy situations, etc.  I pointed this out to him and asked if everyone drives as aggressively as him.  He said, “Well, I’ve got a bigger vehicle than them, so . . .”  It kinda’ sums up the attitude about driving here.  Just don’t get hurt or hurt anyone else.  Make up the rest as you go. 

More about the drive

The sights along the roadside were interesting.  Much of the road was carved thru rock, leaving long stretches of flat, high rock walls along the way.  People paint billboards on the rock.  Mostly political.  “So-and-so for presidente”.  I even saw “Jesus for Presidente” a few times. 

There’s a lot of selling along the roadside – oranges, bananas, plantains, some fruit I’ve never heard of, honey, freshly caught tilapia on strings and other fish.  Cows and horses are all along the side – sometimes tied up sometimes not.  We almost hit a cow driving at night. 

THE ARRIVAL!! Sunday, October 31, 2010

Well, we have arrived.  And I already have my first regret of the trip: that we didn’t video the landing.  Tegucigalpa is a city surrounded by mountains, so the landing is a little interesting.  The plane has to drop quickly after you come over the mountains to reach the runway.  You come very close to the trees, powerlines, and homes that are around.  There are little colorful homes with tin roofs built all over the mountain side.  When the plane starts its steep descent, you can look out the airplane window and see these little homes.  They are so close it seems like you can reach out and touch them.  At times it seems like the tips of the wings are going to bump into them.  When we were taxing in, we passed an airplane off to the side that was propped up on what looked to me like two large wooden sawhorses.  Several pieces of the plane were missing including any propellers. 

Accommodations

It seems like missionary travel to these countries has come such a long way since the days of taking a boat across the ocean, pen and ink as the only form of communication, etc. 

By the end of our first day here, I had bought 2 cheap cells phone along with some minutes so that Joy and I can communicate when we are apart, got online and emailed my Dad to let him know I had arrived, sent a few facebook messages, and hooked up my magic jack to call my Dad and Joy’s Mom to say we were OK - all unfathomable conveniences just 40 years ago. 

Then again there are still some things to let me know I’m not in the US.  I’ve seen two men relieving themselves along the side of the road.  One used a tree, the other a fence post.  Apparently, this is a fairly common occurrence.  The power lines are a sight, too.  There are about 57 lines coming off of one pole.  (Incidentally, we were without power for about 3 hours on our first day here)

Another reminder of where I am . . . our apartment has no hot water heater.  You get hot water thru a device that fit directly onto the showerhead.  Notice (see picture) that this plugs right into the wall complete with wires that have been covered with electrical tape.  All this is less than 6 inches from where the water comes out.  I’m not comforted by the fact that this device is affectionately referred to as a “widowmaker”.  But at least they cover the empty sockets with electrical tape too. 

I haven’t yet seen a single piece of carpet in this country.  All floors here are some sort of tile or stone.  I’ve never liked houses whose living areas are completely hard flooring, but here in Honduras it seems to really have some charm. 

All in all though, the apartment is quite nice.  We are really going to enjoy it here and we’re having a blast so far.  Here are some pics if the apartment if you care to see.  And here are some views from our apartment windows.  Several restaurants including Denny’s, Pizza Hut, and McDonalds are close by.  We bought some fresh flowers with Lempiras given to us from Tonya Boothe before we left.  Fresh flowers are sold a lot along the road and are relatively cheap here.



Ashlyn & Brayden's room




Kitchen




Master Bedroom




Master bath - small but clean



 

Views from the apartment

More later.