For the Love of Spanish

The Secret Life of Boys

dc_chick — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 19:00:00 GMT

So I have now completed my third week "in the field," that is to say, the wilderness of Utah and Nevada. This week the terrain was the epitome of what I think of desert: cactus, Joshua trees, red rocks, red dirt, tumbleweed, sage plants, little shade, high winds, hot days and cold nights. Currently I have legs covered with tiny red dots from being in intimate relationships with cactus needles. At least I'm clean, in clean clothes and in a room with a regulated temperature. It's the little things in life...

That actually leads me to much of what I've been thinking about this week. Last night was perfect in my mind. I was laying in a sleeping bag, and it was cold enough to be glad for the warmth of the down, yet warm enough to keep my face in the open air. I laid there looking up at the starry sky, which in the middle of nowhere is quite amazing. I felt so thankful. How did I get to this place sleeping outside, falling asleep to shooting stars? I don't know, but I'm grateful for how the Universe has guided me.

I spent the past week with adolescent boys, a segment of the population I don't have much experience with. I'm sure now I have collected a greater quanity of time than I had during my high school career, and let me tell you they're weird. Weird, sweet, heart-warming, forgiving, impulsive, neurotic and hopelessly loveable. I find in them the characteristics that I've loved and struggled with in all the male relationships I've had, friends, neighbors, boyfriends, relatives. "Who does he remind me of?-- oh yes, the way he holds his mouth is like... and the his eyelashes are so long and beautiful like..."

I'm surprised over and over because of the stereotypes I still hold about the male species. They're vulnerable in ways I didn't know boys were. "Really? I say to myself after hearing one of them express a vulnerability about thinking he'll never find someone to love longterm. And the ones who try to play the bad ass role who after a couple weeks talk and talk and talk about their feelings and desire for connection and companionship. Guys who have spent their entire 15 years stuffing down their emotions because their families are authoritarian or or needy or not around. Some don't share because they don't think their feelings are worth noticing. They sort of seem... like girls. It surprises me. Vulnerable, starving for attention and boundaries and tenderness and acceptance... boys.

And then there's the very boyish nature that seems so alien to me. The pecking orders, the physicality, their sense of humor, the need to be strong, dominant, in control... their farting. I've never heard so much in an 8-day period. No apologies, or excuse me, just noises and smells, over and over. Even sometimes though they'd make fun of each other if it smelled bad enough or covered a large enough area. Everyone aparently has standards.

I am learning alot about being real and respectful about expecting others to be real and direct. It's an on-going effort and I'm enjoying it.

Desert Ninjas

dc_chick — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 15:36:00 GMT

So I'm catching up on my time here in Utah. I had a botched attempt at posting last week-- thanks to a power outage at base (where our offices are located). Hopefully I'll have more success this time!

First I successfully completed my orientation training which involves learning what B&R, G&O, LT, bluey, freshie, booger, billie-- among others- means. For example, B&R is beans and rice-- a typical evening meal. A billie is a large coffee can that we either use to dig the LT (latrine) or sift the coals from the fire. A freshie is a container that holds all the personal care items. Similar to a combination of the stuff in your medicine cabinet and under your sink. My training group name was "Desert Ninjas" and whenever the instructors said our name, we responded with "hie-ya").

Second, I've just returned from my first week, as an intern, in the field with the students. 8 days of teenage boys with drug problems, among other things. Right now I'm having trouble putting to words the feelings of gratitude, alienation, compassion and surprise I experienced in being with them. I've had my first experience already with being called an f'ing b*tch. I was surprised at how un-personally I took it. He was simply throwing a fit because he didn't get his way. Later he apologized and asked my forgiveness which was easy for me to grant (because it hadn't pierced my heart).

It's a pretty good set up: 4-5 staff with various experience levels with 10-11 participants. The other staff I worked with told me I experienced a baptism by fire. They were refering to the following events: one of the staff getting sick and going home mid-week, leaving me as the only female in the field; having one of the participants on suicide watch (where one staff member needs to be within an arm's length at all times (even at night); having one boy who hated hiking so much that a 2.5 mile hike took 6.5 hours; having one boy get so upset at previously mentioned boy that he threatened to punch him and (being the closest staff) needing to step in the middle of them (as if I knew what to do had they gotten physical-- this is why every group has a "senior" staff member); and being challenged by the boys for being new. One example: a boy earned a "consequence" for blatantly and repeatedly ignoring my instruction (writing a 2-page essay on why respect is a value worth upholding in our program). At the end of the week he reported that this was a "low" for him. One of the other staff suggested the participant may have a problem with female authority. This kid came up to me later to clarify that he did not ignore my because I am female, but because I'm inexperienced! Well, at least we cleared up that he's not a misogynist!

Overall, it was a good week. I can imagine a large amount of things I can learn in this position. I've learned so much already in these two weeks of backpacking-- which is good and necessary consider my knowledge coming in was just slightly above 0 (and this coming second hand from friends).

I do hope to post weekly in order to process my time and keep you updated. I miss my friends and family, but this is an amazing time of life. I keep being curious about what will come next.

Love to you all.

My view from the Best Western

dc_chick — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 20:54:00 GMT

I seem to have an uncanny ability to find places that are not in the South, but don't seem to know that. For example Southeastern Indiana. I didn't know it was the South until I went to grad school in Richmond IN. And here in Utah, I find myself in a location Dixie appears everywhere. Dixie High School. Dixie State College. "Dixie" written on the side of a cliff." What is this all about? Well, apparently (according to the woman who works at Evelyn's clothing) early Mormon settlers tried to start a cotton crop here, and southern Utah became Atlanta, or Birmingham, minus the people and the accents.

You may be pleased to hear that I have spoken Spanish both days of my stay. I guess there has been an influx of migrant construction workers and now there's a population of around 20,000 Spanish-speakers in a county of 120,000, this according to the guy who drove me in the shuttle from Las Vegas to St. George.

Speaking of, may I say, it could be possible that I have never experienced such a stark contrast in all my life. This is my first experience with the Southwest. So imagine my confusion when I find myself in the plane, looking out the window, seeing as many browns as there were greens in Honduras. The land is open, exposed, vulnerable, so much so I wondered if it was appropriate to fly right into the city. It felt kind of like walking into the bedroom of neighbors you've never met. Envision a stark, rough, sharp landscape, and add to it a city with a couple outrageously large buildings going for bling. It struck me as absolutely absurd. One of my first thoughts was, I hope the guy who wrote Desert Solitaire has not seen this. He might spontaneously combust. He might have moral arguments; mind you, I'm only making an asthetic evaluation. STRANGE pairing. I wouldn't think of topping tortillas with caviar, but.... that's just me.

Having said all this, I find Utah and Nevada to be heart-wrenchingly beautiful. I now know something of why people experience transformation in the desert. The rugged, barren beauty seeps into the soul. I'm curious to see how it changes me during this week of backpacking. I'll report more then. Love to all.

Christmas in July

dc_chick — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 20:44:00 GMT

Today I learned something that intrigued me. In English, Christians refer to the gospel of Jesus as "The Good News." In Spanish, it is called "La Buena Nueva" which is more like, "a juicy tidbit" or the latest gossip. Now that sounds like a guy you'd want to know, someone making a splash. Definitely more riveting in any case. Kind of like technology, in that, you need to keep paying attention. Something that happened last year is old news. The universe wants to let us in on la buena nueva (even if its truth is old as dirt!)

I'm pleased to report that I went swimming this week. A beautiful sunshiny day. I keep thinking it's summertime. I'm also happy to report that I haven't heard Christmas songs on more than a handful of occasions so far. As some of you may know, I like saving Christmas for Christmas. And while I don't find the people in Honduras to be more astute religiously than people in the States, they have less money and so the material aspect is that much less (ie. it doesn't seem to take up all of December). New Year's is as big a celebration here as Christmas-- and there are presents for that as well.

I continue to learn alot about "loving what is." And "what is" here looks like plaintains, beans, eggs, chicken, cheese and tortillas. Also oatmeal that I make for myself every morning. And the family very rarely eats together. It's usually more like musical chairs, and includes the various people who pass through to visit. I can imagine a time in the near future when I will be glad to eat a whole meal with the same people who sit down the entire time.

I have one more week of classes and I'm tackling the subjunctive again. Should be fun.

I'm also happy to report that I'm getting as many honks as ever. I laughed to myself the other day when a truck passed and didn't offer any whistles, beeps, or "hey pretty lady's" of any sorts, and I noticed a reaction within me was, "What, I'm not honk-worthy?"

And lastly, I miss dancing to American music. But I am upheld by a house in the neighborhood that blasts 80's music with some regularity. "It's the eye of the tiger; it's the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rivals..."

Proposal

dc_chick — Tue, 4 Dec 2007 12:13:00 GMT

I continue to be astounded and indescribably grateful for the way the universe unfolds. I am learning so much about myself and Honduras and the world, all at the same time. It is such a pleasure and privilege to be here, to have the time to study and walk and make friends. These past days especially I have been filled with such delight and thankfulness for life.

Wow, I guess I needed to write all of that here because there´s no way I can express these sentiments in Spanish yet!! My family is wonderful. They consider me part of the clan and include me in their celebrations. The kids go for walks and outings with me. The older boys wrestle with me, the youngest plays a tickling game with me, and the oldest daughter and cousin talk with me about the differences in culture and sex-roles with me. The mom asks me braid her hair and the boys let me style their hair. (I gave one of them a faux-hawk, very cute on him!) They think of me as being very good with hair and asked me if I´ve ever gone to school for it! Funny because I have considered it only several ocassions!

It´s been really interesting to realize that words are only so important in developing connections with people. Especially with the boys, words are almost totally unnecessary. Play goes a long way. And no words needed for braiding hair either and yet it is so intimate. I feel very included.

Today I went horseback riding and I go for some kind of trek or excursion nearly every day. The land is so beautiful; there are still many flowers in bloom.

I am sleeping and dreaming alot here and feel like I´m shedding another layer of snakeskin, growing, becoming, apreciating.

The other day there was no electricity in town for most of the day, and it didn´t disrupt life much at all. My family couldn´t prepare food in our home, but we went to the house of friends who have an outdoor kitchen. Viola, lunch. Power returned in the evening, just in time for the boys to play video games at night!

Oh, also, I should mention that I received my first marriage proposal today. From the man who took us on the tour by horseback. Very flattering!

Manitos Calientes

dc_chick — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 12:02:00 GMT

Okay, yesterday, I totally fell in love. His name is Dorian and he is one cousin of my Honduran family. There´s just one thing. He´s 15 years old, and I´d nearly be willing to wait 15 more years to marry him.

I was sitting by myself at a family celebration not feeling particularly social, when along comes this incredibly handsome adolescent with a beautiful smile who asked me if I liked listening to music. And from there we talked non-stop through supper about sports and music and the universe (in Spanish, I´m so thrilled).

What a crazy phenomenon to experience such a lovely human connection through the distance of age, culture, and gender. Completely organic and unexpected. What a graceful world we live in.

At one point he asked me if I knew the game of reflexes, where one person holds out their hands beneath or above the other person´s hands, and you see if you can slap the other. I don´t think it has a name in English but in Spanish it´s called ¨Manitos Calientes" hot, little hands. Of course, I know this game. We played several rounds. Not that it matters, I won.

The transformation of a tourist

dc_chick — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 17:48:00 GMT

I haven't said anything yet about the way the country looks.... It's beautiful. Lush, many greens, hills, trees, mountains. Everywhere a person looks, the land is amazingly beautiful. I just spent the day with friends of my family. They live a short walk from the center of the town. We sat outside and ate lunch, a soup with ripe bananans, green bananas, green plaintains, coconut milk, onions and the skin of some animal. Very tasty. I just couldn't stop looking at the mountains on the horizon. I'm sad to say, one of my first thoughts was, No wonder Americans come here, buy the land out from under the poor people, and build hotels! It's the kind of thing American pay alot of money to see, and here I am. Sitting outdoors, eating this meal with family, just like I would in the summer with my family in Ohio. The sameness and difference is sort of hard to put into words.

Which leads me to the philosophical pondering of the week. How to be a good tourist.
And before I go any farther, I would like to apologize for the punctuation, or anything else that is not a letter. This key board apparently does not render the symbol imprinted on the button I press, so please excuse the lack of punctuational sophistication! Oh, I found the exclamation point.

Anyway, there seem to be two parallel cultures in this town. The first is the life of the average Honduran. Family, work, church. They don't seem to eat out or go to movies, but if they are anything like my family there are half a dozen people passing through the house to visit, eat and pass the morning or afternoon. I have heard every person in my Honduran family sing outloud, alone or together. There are many hours, however, spent playing video games. I think this must be somewhat universal in living with a houseful of boys.

Then there are the Americans/Europeans who for whatever reason have made homes here. They have coffee shops and bookstores and outdoor adventures businesses and restaurants. In short, all the things you'd find... in the United States. And I'm very drawn to these places, except that, it's not a reflection of the country. So I'm spending a good deal of time thinking about the kind of experience I want here. Afterall, who knows the next time I'll have six consecutive weeks free.

I've already made a commitment to be in one place. I'm thinking about visiting the capital because there's a L'Arche in the city, but I don't even know about that. It's a trek. I want to immerse myself in the culture and really let myself have a different experience . Not just eat french fries in a different place on the globe. I don't think this is the best way of doing things necessarily. I'm not a travel expert or an anthropologist. I guess it's a bit of an experiment with easing up on control.

So if my family eats tortillas every meal. I do too. If they eat pulverized black beans on white bread for a snack *as they did today* so will I. Now sure, I'm adapting things as I go. I did buy myself some raisins and ginger this week to put in my daily oatmeal breakfast. But, by and large, I'm trying not to be a tourist as much as a presence here.

Now for some juicy gossip for those who may be reading for this very reason. Last night I had my first experience with a man trying to pick me up *who I was willing to let try*. Very attractive and tall with these gorgeous torquoise eyes. A doctor from the Dominican Republic doing volunteer work for the week with a group from Puerto Rico where he currently lives with Honduran folks lacking medical attention *to put it mildly*. I met him when I was looking at a jewelry stand. He came up, caught my eye, and said hello. Very pleasing. We talked and walked and went at sat in a restaurant. He bought us sodas, since we're both on medication for malaria *I can't drink alcohol on the day I take the pill.* And the best part, the entire conversation was conducted in Spanish by yours truly. Anyway, we walked up to the town square and he said in Spainsh, I'm surprised, you don't have a boyfriend+, you're such a beautiful woman. *Yes, I know it's surprising. I told him. My Honduran family is currently searching through family indexes looking for single relatives. And you, you don't have a girlfriend or spouse? oh what key did I just hit to get that question mark.

AFterall, he is in his forties, attracitve and a doctor. I figured he must be divorced if he was single. But no.

Yes, he said, I have a wife in Puerto Rico. And children.

Oh. well, I think I'll go dancing, I told him.

So you think I`m hard to follow in English?

dc_chick — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 10:38:00 GMT

So I have finally begun my Spanish classes. And I´m a bit rusty. I like my teacher though. Her name is Maria Jose. She´s 18 years old and very lovely.

I see that I can be a lot to handle in class. Luckily, I´m her only student. We will be reviewing verbs and their conjugations and then a word will trigger a memory of a story or previous conversation. Por exemplo, she asks me if I know a particular word. Boy do I! Because yesterday I was looking up this very word... because I had a dream... which ties into a story I was telling her yesterday... about people that I´ve mentioned before... and so on and so on. There is much laughter and then when there´s silence, she comes back to the word. Ah yes, we are conjugating verbs. I remember.

The craziness of these experiences helps me appreciate again and more deeply the non-linear web of conversation my friends must navigate all the time with me. I am so thankful for your patience. Please channel it to Maria Jose this week!

Me llamo Anamaria

dc_chick — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 10:08:00 GMT

"I am called Anamaria." This figuratively the way you introduce yourself in Spanish and literally how it is for me. When I arrived in town, I met the director of the school. I told her my name, and she said in Spanish, "Anamaria is much easier for us." I just laughed. Enough of this sensitive North American crap! So Anamaria it is!

So many things already. Much of it because it has been so long since I traveled abroad, have never traveled to Central America, and don´t identify as being a tourist, which in fact I am. Living in DC, I am used to being the one who gives directions, has opinions on what to visit, where to go, the easiest way to get there. So it gives me a new perspective to be the one who has no idea of the context I´ve just plopped myself in.

In one funny twist of events, I have been to more evangelical Christian events in the past four days than since I was in college. I am living with a very lovely family. Mom and Dad and four children ages 15 to 4. They are evangelical Christians and so are many of their friends. So the first night I went to church with them and didn´t understand most of the words, yet understood everything. Everything is the same. The songs, the prayers, the music videos, the energetic preaching, the raised hands, the emotion. Everything. It is a world very similar to the one I used to live in. I had ambiguous feelings about whether I actually wanted to understand Spanish.

Last night to I went to a concert with the mom and her good friend, who are also in their young 30´s. It turned out to be a Christian concert which half the town attended. There were women in the aisles shaking and people praying outloud, with the leader prayer very loudly. I looked around and of course I was the only gringa. I´m sure this didn´t turn up in the Lonely Planet guide of local activities. But I was glad to be there. In some ways everything is an interesting anthropological experience. I´m glimpsing the life of a community and a family. Also, it really doesn´t matter the event, people speak, or sing or pray, in Spanish, and that´s what I´m here for, verdad?

Who needs E-harmony?

dc_chick — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 03:28:00 GMT

One of the things I anticipated but still find surprising is how unusual it is in this culture to be in the 30´s and single. It was my first morning with the family when Dilcia, my host, asked me how old I was, followed by, am I married, followed by do I have a boyfriend, followed by do I want one, followed by, what kind. So I think everyone is kind of on the lookout.

The family is very social. Every day and night, all ages of people drop by to visit and eat and drink coffee. Especially in the evening, boys will come by to play on the family´s Play Station. However, I notice the age of the boy is increasing. Till Tuesday night, one guy came for supper, and later that night, another man dropped by to visit and play with the Play Station. I know there´s no cut off on age for boys and toys, but it amused me nonetheless.

Finally at supper, the women did ask me if what I thought of one of the visitors. I said, in my best Spanish, "I knew that´s what was going on!" And everyone laughed.

I am from a small town, afterall. I know how these things work.

Journey to the Center

dc_chick — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 12:11:00 GMT

Awoke to the sounds of many birds and bright sunlight. I wanted to get up before I slept in too late. Washed up, got dressed, meditated and walked out into the living room to find it was 10 till 7a. So I went back to bed and slept some more.

For breakfast, two homemade crepes with Shurfresh cream cheese and Guava jelly from Guatemala.

I went out for a walk, after getting some instruction and finding a map of the city in my Lonely Planet. Only as I was walking down the road did I realize that there was a distinct possibility that I would not be able to find my way back. Since, I am in fact, unfamiliar with the area, don´t have a phone and didn´t bring along the address of the hostel. And I also found out the small streets aren´t marked. So I walked straight until I got to the first major intersection (which also didn´t have names), memorized the landmarks-- a McDonald´s, a ceramics store, and a big billboard advertizing water-- a kept going following the instructions I´d been given (in Spanish).

I was looking for 12th Street and amazingly found it. And luckily, the city is laid out in a grid, avenues going N-S, streets going E-W. So it was really no problem to navigate, once I located the streets with signs.

I walked to the center of town to find a boxing ring set up in the Park. It seemed like the kind of traveling circus thing where locals pay money to get in the ring with a good fighter. One man (the professional) wasn´t wearing head gear, while the other needed to have it on. And they were wearing jeans, which is not what I´d expect them to wear if they´d planned to do such a thing when they got dressed in the morning.

I did decidedly encounter more noises than in Washington DC. Though perhaps that´s because there are more square blocks of Latino men here. And there are different sounds, the kissing ones, the hissing ones (which I didn´t get so much in DC) and car honks- which were sometimes taxis seeing if I needed their services.

I also learned something about language that I put into practice on my walk. Last night I heard people say, "Buenas" as a greeting, shortened from buenas tardes or buenas noches. Interesting the Americans condense the greeting to "evening" while hondurenos shorten it to "good." So today, I took such delight in saying, "Buenos" (buenos dias). Obviously with that kind of grip of the language, I was in no danger of being detected as a tourist!!

Beautiful day. Wearing a tank top, but forgot sunscreen. So many things to remember! Also, people here don´t wear sunglasses, or bike helmets. But the women do wear high heels. Their feet and eyes are tougher than mine!!

Snack at Mister Pan: Budin de banano-- a banana bread pudding for 13 lempiras. Very tasty!

The First Supper

dc_chick — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 22:10:00 GMT

I arrived in Honduras without a glitch after having a surreal experience all day, like someone had put me on the Metro this morning. Like I arrived for my first day at work, and someone said-- we´ve booked a trip to Honduras for you. Like I didn´t spend the last 6 weeks waiting for this day to come.

Anyway, for me the most noteworthy event so far has been supper. I´m staying at a hostel, and the husband of the couple who runs it picked me up from the airport. I told him I´d been anticipating my first meal in Honduras. When we arrived he said at the hostel, he said he´d be glad to transport me to a nearby restaurant whenever I was ready. Being me, I said, ¨How about now?¨ (Wow, this is my first experience with a Spanish keyboard. Some things are not where I expected.) So we went to a local pub, and asked the bartender if he accepted American dollars (hadn´t gotten money changed yet :( and ordered the special "enchiladas" for 15 lempiras, $.80. What came out was a cute little tostada. It lasted for 3 bites or so. "Tengo hambre," I said. I´m hungry. An order of the Yuca, like potatoes, con todo "with everything" and a Salva Vida. It´s "la cerveza nacional" afterall. At least that´s what it said on the bottle. Of course I need to have one. And of course there was a soccer game on. Honduras vs. Guatemala being played at the Dophins stadium in Miami. And also "Give me one reason to stay here" by Tracy Chapman was playing on the radio, along with Stevie Wonder and Stevie Nicks.

The bartender asked me if I wanted anything else. Yes, a taco, por favor. "Con todo?" Si, con todo! (And everything, btw, meant finely shredded cabbage, tomatoes, cilantro, (so much for avoiding raw food)pork, chicken, hot sauce and what I think was a pork rind.

So there I was, sitting on at a bar, eating bar food, listening to American music, watching a soccer game with locals and drinking the national beer. Is this a different country? In Mt. Pleasant they at least play music with Spanish lyrics! Well, it is 80º and everyone really only speaks Spanish. Though I was too busy eating to say a whole lot.

I feel at home, and full, and tired. Now I´m posting this story and going to bed. Being me, I didn´t bring a watch or an alarm clock, so we´ll see how big a deal that is.

The Afternoon before the Day

dc_chick — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 16:39:00 GMT

So here I am.

Leaving tomorrow to travel to Central America and improve my Spanish and learn about the world. It was only in August when I walked into a little tienda in my neighborhood to get a passport photo taken. I didn't even have any plans then. I just knew that I wanted to travel and that my passport needed to be renewed in order for that to happen. It felt a bit odd to be honest. Maybe I'm planning for something that won't come to fruition. Like the massage table I bought. (I thought I was going to massage school....) It was almost like be afraid to hope that my life would turn into something else, something that isn't rightfully mine. I'm not a world traveler. I live in DC. Other people travel _everywhere_ all the time. I haven't left the country for 10 years. I've traveled the interior region... of myself. Isn't that enough? It's certainly been an adventure.

And now I'm the one getting on the plane and flying to another place where I don't know anyone and have very few plans, except to be open and curious. What awaits me?

I guess we'll find out!