Life Goes On?

Or does it?

I know it's been an incredibly long time since my last entry, but I didn't forget all of you faithful followers! Oh, I've thought about posting several times since I've been back, though the lack of living in another country has given me pause. I suppose I left a lot unspoken since my fateful return.

Welcome Home?

I arrived in Seattle yesterday after a long day of travel.

We arrived at the airport in Tegucigalpa after breakfast early enough to check in the nearly-150 of us on 3 different airlines before flying out that afternoon. The last farewells were said and everyone told to come visit their town soon. About 20 of us boarded the flight to Atlanta where, 3 hours later, we made our way through Customs. I hand them my passport and they ask the usual questions about what I'm bringing. Realizing that I've returned to the United States with my American passport, they say to me:

Tomorrow is Here

In less than 24 hours, I will be walking away from my home with whatever I can carry.

It's sort of like rewind. All the things I did to create my life here are being undone - buying things for my house, getting settled in, meeting people, delving into work. And the emotions are just as reversed. All that excitement I first had has turned into dread of leaving. "Nice to meet you" is now "Adios." "I give classes at the school" is now "I gave some classes at the school." And "I live in Subirana" is now "I used to live in Subirana." 

There's not much to say. In fact, it would be easier to say nothing. Attempting to speak a foreign language while in a highly emotional state is no simple task. Heck, people have a hard enough time saying anything intelligible even in their native tongue.

Once Upon a Time in Roatán

by Joanna Dittemore, guest blogger & Adam's mom

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

It felt a little odd to be cavorting about in a tropical paradise after just learning that all PC-Honduras volunteers were being evacuated in a few weeks due to increased violence and security concerns. It caused me to do some research on the current situation in Honduras (like this article in the Washington Post, and this one pointing the finger at Americans' lust for drugs...but that's another story). It makes me sad for the sweet and kind-hearted Honduran people, who have been so helpful and friendly to Adam, who graciously opened their homes and their lives to him, and who are now losing out on the assistance that people like him were providing. !Ay! Que tristeza.

But, life goes on. And Roatán has a way of making one forget the troubles of the world...

Adios Honduras?

Whiskey and I were out exploring the other day, when he fell into a pit.

A pit of despair.

And he's asking himself a question I find myself asking today:

What do I do now?


Let me explain...

Kicking Asses

Funny stuff about Donkey Polo...
a week too late

It was nice seeing my host family again and people remembering my name after 8 months. Some of the Hondurans even remembered my name too!

Donkey Polo: Gringos continue 18-year losing streak
Final Score: 41-2 Catrachos

Our asses got kicked...

Half of Life

Half of life is showing up. This couldn't have been made more obvious to me than it was the other night.

It's the end of the year and everyone is either harvesting coffee or finishing school. The high school held its graduation ceremony this past Friday and I was formally invited by one of the teachers. I arrived 15 minutes late to the main salón. I'm really trying to show up late to things, but it's hard. Fifteen minutes wasn't enough. I stood around awkwardly with the few other early birds for another 45 minutes. I don't know how it always happens, but la hora Hondureña is one hour later. And if you think like that, they're pretty much on time.