San Antonio and the Missions

Anah and went to San Antonio this past weekend for a little Texas-exploration. We've got the great big state and some free time so off we go!

Stop #1: Obligatory stop at the Alamo!





Stop #2: RiverWalk... several miles of laid-stone sidewalks next on the San Antonio River with tons of restaurants and shops.





Stop #3: El Mercado... not much of a market, but there were street performers at a nearby Labor Day festival doing Michael
Jackson's greatest hits.





Stop #4: The Missions of San Antonio... the Alamo is included in the five area missions. Here are the other four outside of the city.

Mission Concepción

Mission San Jose

Mission San Juan

Mission Espada

Our B&B:

A Few Pictures from the Lago

This past weekend Anah and I sprinted out of San Pedro Sula and headed south of the city to Lago de Yojoa. Yahoa is the largest lake in Honduras and in the 1970s it was renowed for its bass fishing. Overfishing has since nearly emptied the lake of bass and since then has been replaced by tilapia farms. Honduras is the world's largest producer of tilapia and all of that production takes place on Yojoa.

Here's a few photos from our weekend:

Bird is the word.

Lake.

Horses on the highway (they also ran through our hotel grounds).

Future Honduran Lance Armstrong.

More lake. Yojoa is completely surrounded by moutains, including Honduras' second highest peak.

Nearby pinapple fields. Cool.

Roadside pineapple "stand." $.75 for a whole pineapple! (Note the Gringos walking up... the fat woman had the nerve to want to negotiate a lower price for one... cheapskate!).

Old Man and the Lake.

- Dan

Homelife: Anah is out-of-town edition

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

Anah is a great cook. Almost every night she makes a delicious meal that makes forget that I'm not actually a vegetarian. This weekend, however, Anah is in Copan with her friend Maria, leaving me to my own devices and meal preparation.

I was lucky enough to have dinner covered last night. Free appetizers from Applebee's (I know, lame) on the school's tab proved to be mostly sufficient.

But what about breakfast!??! Who to make the eggs, or pancakes!

I've got enough culinary skills to survive until the mid-day meal:



Cheesey egg, soy breakfast sausage, and a garlic bagel sandwich (yes... two, I'm a pig) with coffee (yeah I can make a mean cup o' Joe).

- Dan

Sunday Morning Sunrise (click here to comment)

Anah and I joke that San Pedro Sula is only beautiful when you look up and at no time was that more apparent than this morning as the sun rose.

Fancy Pants

The time between Christmas Break and Spring Break is always a long stretch for teachers.  At this point you feel like you've been working with your students for such a long time, but yet, you still have so far to go until Summer Vacation.  You've been with them long enough that you feel like WHY AREN'T THEY BEHAVING??!?  but in their little minds they've been with you long enough that they feel like WHY IS THIS LADY STILL MAKING ME BEHAVE!?!?!?!?  And part of you feels like you really can't blame 'em...I'm a little sick of the sound of my own voice echoing off the walls of the classroom.  Bueller... Bueller?

So, in an effort to get that echo out of our heads and regain our sanity, we took off to Tela, a nearby beach town (yes, we've already been there). 

 We were joined on our travels by another couple, Sarah and Sava.  Sava is Dan's teaching partner in 7th grade and Sarah is the Middle School Guidance Counselor.  They are actually both from Madison, so many of our favorite places are places they also know well.  Originally we were going to stay in a budget hotel, as we normally do.  The budget hotels we tend to frequent are clean and have beds, but that's about it.  However, when we went to check-in we were surprised to find out that they were all booked up, as was their neighboring hotel.  Not knowing of many other options we did a team huddle, and came to an agreement- we were going to go fancy.  

Walking down the beach in search of paradise

Down the beach is a giant resort called TelaMar that looks like it was airlifted out of DisneyWorld or some such idyllic place, and plopped into the 2nd rate beach town of Tela.  We were a little wary of the cost, but decided if we shared a room with Sarah and Sava, it would be about the same price as if we had chosen the budget option and stayed in our own room.  As we paid for the room in the Main Building we were still a little nervous that the room may not live up to our ever-growing expectations. 

A little different than our normal "Habitaciones"

But, in a few moments we had our key and as we opened the door to our 3rd level paradise our expectations were surpassed.  The room was spacious, replete with two giant beds with firm mattresses (not the saggy, worn ones to which we've grown accustom) and covered by fluffy, clean, white comforters.  The wall was adorned with actual artwork, as well as a gigantic flatscreen TV.  Best of all, was the balcony; a large ceramic space which overlooked the 3 giant pools of the resort, bringing to our attention that one of the pools featured a "Swim-up" bar.  We had indeed gone fancy, and were happy that we would not have to go back for another day and a half.

Our travel partners in front of the luxurious pools

Swim on up...

In a typical blog post at this point I would fill you in on some adventure we had the next day.  But, there were no adventures to be had on Saturday nor Sunday- just pool time, drink time, card playing time and humongous flatscreen TV time.  And it was spectacular, every last fancy minute.  It was just what we needed, and today as we headed back to work we felt a little more tolerant and ready to face our days.  We'd gained back that last drop of patience that we just might need to get us through until we get recharged in full during our Spring Break.   

Honduran Specialties #2: The Irony is Rich (click to comment)

Friday, Feburary 27th, 2009

We meant to post this right when we got back from our weekend trip to Lago de Yajoa, but forgot. We visited an nature park near the lake, but took the long route walking to a town a few miles away and then catching a taxi to the park entrance.

On our way we pasted the town dump, which besides being just gross (it was immediately on the side of the road and RIGHT next to a river) was also funny as all get out.

For those of you who don't speaka-the-Spanish (me included) the sign in front of the dump roughly reads, "don't throw garbage here."

"I'm sorry... what did you say?" (click here to comment)

I'm sure that most of you are tiring of my blog posts about playing soccer, but outside of school and traveling, I have very few options. Last week I wrote I had played soccer and well enough to get an invite back for this Sunday.

Today I headed down to the field to play a little futbolito, which is an indoor soccer field outside. It had been raining on and off today (what a surprise because this is pretty much the forecast everyday) and so playing on the field was like facing off on a dish sponge. Interesting, I know.

While my Spanish is improving, it is still absolutely piss poor, especially compared to my lovely wife's language skills, but the most important thing is that I keep trying. Between the taxi driver yesterday and this new group of soccer players I was about at the end of my rope for Spanish speaking.

The toughest part is that my listening skills are so poor (in English too) that I have a hard time understand what other people are saying. I can speak at about a first grade Spanish level so people can at least get an idea what I'm talking about. Some times I hear something that makes sense, other times I'm totally lost.

There's one player I've been talking to today, his name is Wilson (which I find very odd for a Honduran), and we're having a very basic Spanish conversation.

Wilson: "Hello, how are you?"
Me: "Good. How are you?"
Wilson: "Are you ready to play?
Me (This time trying to make a joke... very bad idea in Spanish): "Yes, I'm just watching the game of the grandpas."

You see on the field next to us is a full 11 v 11 game of men, the youngest that might be 50. The goalie keeper is about 65 and in between waddling to make saves (which he does several times) he's yelling at his friends behind the goal that are giving him crap for said saves.

Wilson (in Spanish, remember): Oh, ha ha. Yes, these are the veteran's games. The players are all ex-professional players in Honduras.
Me: Wow. (that's seriously cool)
Wilson: Hey, what are you doing next weekend? We (all of the other players) are going to ____________ (some place I don't recognize) for the pools, soccer fields, and _________ with our families.

At this point I'm not sure if I've been invited somewhere, but I'm sort of confused. Why are they not just playing soccer at this field next Sunday?

Me: Wait (in English.. shit he doesn't speak English! Now back to bad Spanish). In San Pedro Sula? Where? What are you doing?
Wilson: We are all going to a nice place with pools and to play soccer. Do you want to go?
Me: So you're not playing here next Sunday?
Wilson: No. All of us (he points to all the guys I played with last week and will this week) are members of Alcoholics Anonymous and we are going away next weekend.
Me: I'm sorry... what?

Holy crap... yeah I happen to stumble upon a group of guys who play soccer together as an activity to avoid drinking. Not just drinking "like hey... we drink too much we should also be active," but like "we have been told we are a stain on society and need to get it together" kind of drinking.

This is an interesting development. Wilson tells me (or at least what I've translated) that drinking has caused "muchas problemas" in his life and that they all have been sober for a long time. I state that alcoholism is a very big problem in Honduras (I read that in a book) and he agrees.

I manage to tell him that his weekend retreat sounds nice, but I am a teacher and have much work to do next weekend. But that next Sunday I would love to play when they all come back.

After the game, Wilson sticks around after the other players leave and he and I have another painful conversation in Spanish. It was nice. He bought himself, me, and his fourth grade son Cokes and we sat and I made general observations (you see I can't speak in the past tense in Spanish so every thing has to be happening in the here and now otherwise I can't communicate it). I say I like only soccer and not American football, he tells me about a player on the field in front of us that used to be a professional, but he drank too much and did many "drogas." Hmm.

I said my good byes and reminded myself never to invite the boys out for post game beers.

Okay, so living here is pretty great...

Non-frozen body of water.

Not to rub it in to those of you literally freezing in Wisco, but the weather has been gorgeous lately. Last weekend my darling sister came to town, and after one night in SPS we whisked her away to nearby Tela. Tela is only about an hour or so away from SPS, but for whatever reason we hadn't yet visited this tropical paradise. To be sure, it's not quite as lovely as Roatan but it does have a decent beach as well as cheap and comfortable hotels and most importantly, it is considerably more lovely than SPS.

Hotel view.

On the recommendation of friends, we stayed at the "MayaVista" which was a strange treehouse-like hotel that had a great view of the ocean and town below. The first day we spent at the beach where Dan was able to join a pick-up soccer game and Erin and I soaked up some sun.

The next day we woke early to venture out to "Punta Sal", a point of land just past Tela that is home to a large national park and several Garifunian (Indigenous Honduran) communities. We took a choppy boat ride out to the point, accompanied by some fishermen and our "guide", Juan Carlos. They dropped us off at the entrance to the national park (and to be clear, by "entrance" I mean medium-sized wooden sign stuck in the sand) and we followed JuanCa into the jungle. The tour literature promised monkey-spotting, so we were on the lookout for furry creatures but alas, saw none. We did however see lots of evidence of them as well as lots of funky insects and plants. Also, the hike led to a lovely lagoon where we found many crabs of different persuasions on a glittering beach.

You are here.

Juan Carlos (or as he like to say, "JuanCa... like the in the choclate factory") shows more lifesaving plants with his trusty stick.

We hiked back to meet the boat, where they then took us to a snorkeling area. Jumping out of the boat into the ocean was a little scary, but it was well worth it. The water was teeming with life and we were able to see lots of different coral, sea fans and plenty of colorful fish. We snorkeled up to another beach, which was home to a Garifuna family who for a small price made us a delicious lunch of fresh fried fish, red beans and rice and tajadas (fried banana chips). There were a few other folks on the beach, including a family who's kids attend our school, and they were playing some nice island tunes from their boat which made it all the more easy to relax on the pristine beach.

Beach.

Beach Babes.

The boat took us back into town in the afternoon and we found our way to the bus station. The "Tela Express" served as our chariot back to SPS and we were back with plenty of time to prepare for the school week ahead. It was a lovely weekend and a great chance to enjoy time with Erin. On Monday she was able to visit our school and meet the fabulous first graders (although I think their intensity scared her a little) and then on Tuesday she headed off to Roatan for the remainder of the week.

We're looking forward to our next trip to Tela- next weekend, maybe?

Click here to see all of our Tela photos!

Thanksgiving in Gracias

Turkey Day in Honduras

Its only a bit ironic that for the Thanksgiving weekend we spent in the Western Honduras village of Gracias (for those of you who don't speaka the Spanish, 'gracias' means 'thank you.'). After having hit most of the so-called "touristy" places of Honduras it was time for Anah and I to travel a bit off the beaten path.

Thanksgiving is not a holiday in Honduras, but since we are at an international school with many American teachers it becomes a holiday in our small part of the world. A lot of the Hondurans that go to the school readily and excitedly adopt American things (fashions, ruthless capitalism, etc) so Thanksgiving should not be a surprise.

Thursday was a half day of school. At the middle school it was "traditional sports day" where I learned games from my childhood actually have their origins in Honduras (another adopted thing for the US?).

Anah, however, was treated to a "real" Thanksgiving dinner at 10am in her classroom. Moms brought in turkey, mashed potatoes, and other fixings. The bird weighed in at a staggering 8 pounds, which in Thanksgiving lore make it one of the tiniest gobblers ever. But for Hondurans turkey is not usually on the menu let alone one that comes in double digit poundage. The taste of the Turkey got mixed reviews from the first graders I'm told, so it's small size was not a concern. The mashed potatoes were excellent as was the corn on the cob and mini-cupcakes (a Pilgrim specialty).

Santa Rosa de Copan

After school we were off on our adventure. We hopped aboard what could not necessarily be called a chicken bus, but perhaps maybe a "duck" bus as it was slightly fancier than a school bus but still no Hedman Alas. There was puke all over the place, which no one had bothered to clean up, which made us a little nervous as to what lay in store for us.

However, we made the journey without incident and witnessed many beautiful views in our 3 hour ride. Our first stop was the city of Santa Rosa de Copan. Even though it shares a similar name with the other Copan we took PJ and Nancy to, this one is in another part of the country and hold little of the same charm that the other does. Santa Rosa was a bit of a disappointment.

Our Lonely Planet guide encouraged us to check out the "wonder brick oven fired pizzas" of Pizza Pizza owned by an American in SR. I think Lonely Planet just likes throwing bones to American-owned restaurants because their few and far in between in Central America. Or bonus points because the writers are surprise at pizza in a far away place. The pizza was alright, but nothing to garner a top spot in a guide book or our opinions. Its hard to be blown away by pizza (or its availability) when you've got a classy Pizza Hut down the street from your house.

We did meet a nice British gentleman, whom I'm traded barbs with about soccer (he an Arsenal fan, I Liverpool), and shared dinner and a drink with before parting ways.

Anah and I hunkered down in an out-of-place cute bed and breakfast in SR before waking up to a delightful breakfast of Honduran tipico (corn tortillas, scrambled eggs, plantains, beans and fresh bananas). We enjoyed one cup of coffee with our breakfast and went out in search of more before heading to the cigar factory.

Cigars

Before moving on from Santa Rosa, there was one redeeming stop to make. While Santa Rosa lacks colonial charms and other niceties (its not terrible, just relatively uninteresting) it DOES have the Flor de Copan Cigar Factory. Flor is one of the top cigar manufactures in the world making dozens and dozens of brands of cigars for local consumption and the rest of the world. For 2 bucks you can get a tour of the factory.

Unfortunately, we weren 't allowed to take pictures on our tour so you'll have to stick with my word-smithing skills (already worried, huh?). I did manage to find some photos on the Interweb, though).

The amazing thing about the factory is that while this world becomes more an more technologically advanced there are just some things that computers and machines cannot replicate. Cigar manufacturing is one of those wonders.

The first room we passed through was the tobacco rooms where dozens of different tobacco leaves were sorted into the cigars that they would later become. They are sprayed with water and there they sit for four months as the piles of leaves cook themselves through the chemicals that are in the leaves. The smell of all the tobacco leaves gave your nose a combination burning/tickling feeling that shot straight to the brain.

From there we passed through a room where mostly women tore out the petiole (or main vein) of the tobacco leaf. Very important as this does not smoke (or roll) well. Then on to the leaf flattening room. More women, using machines that looked at least 100 years old (and sorta like an ancient typewriter) put leaf after leaf after leaf through a press to smooth out each leaf.

Both of those rooms were not huge, but the next part was this massive room full of hundreds of people sitting at desks hand-rolling the cigars. Taking the perfectly smooth and pressed leaves from the previous room and pack them together into tight packs of tobacco.

It was quite the sight and Anah was loving every minute, the whole experience having appealed to her love of seeing multiple of things. It seemed like a large portion of this room was staring at Anah and I as our "tour guide" wandered through the rows of rolling employees (did I mention we were the only people on the tour and probably the only ones in a quite awhile).

I guess each roller can produce hundred of nearly identical cigars each day. From there it was onto packaging where the different types of cigars get their plastic wraps, rings, and boxes to be shipped around the world.

Despite the fact that we were literally surrounded by thousands upon thousands of cigars (and obviously made with little labor cost) we were not offered one for the road or the opportunity to purchase any (no gift shop! ha!). It was still a pretty cool experience to be able to see something like that produced from start to finish.

Gracias

After the fun with mass quantities, we walked down to the bus station and found a chicken bus to take us to Gracias. Again, the ride was gorgeous as we passed through the mountains, getting a glimpse into the real Honduran countryside.

Gracias holds a bit more colonial charm that Santa Rosa and alongside some serious financial support from the Spanish government the area is trying to push hard to become a center for tourism for those who like old Spanish churches and local pottery. They are also playing a large role in developing the infrastructure of the nearby national park. The organization is called "Colusuca" and seems to be making good and hopefully sustainable progress. It's kinda funny that the Spanish are putting more money into this effort than the Honduran government is. Perhaps some left over guilt?

One of the many colonial churches in Gracias

The city was undergoing a face lift with the central park being totally reconstructed. Our hotel was at the foot of a big hill that held a Spanish fort overlooking the city. The hotel, Guancascos, is owned by a nice Dutch lady, Froni, and is a place where Anah visited during her first trip to Gracias when she was in Honduras the first time in 2003. Since it was her memories of the place that led to our trip, I'll have her tell the story from here on. (You'd all prefer that anyway, I'm sure.)

Part of the restored fort

A Trip Back

Yes, yes, I planned our little jaunt to Gracias. During my summer in Honduras in 2003 midway through my little adventure in Honduran countryside we were treated to a break where we were allowed to spend a weekend in Gracias. Compared to where we were spending most of our time that summer, Gracias seemed like a cosmopolitan mecca. I remember being charmed by its dusty streets and moreso by the lovely little hotel in which we stayed, Guancascos.

Like Dan said, it's set up at the foot of the mountains and has several charming rooms that look out onto the town. It has a very tranquil atmosphere, and plays host to all types of travelers, Peace Corps workers on break, local election officials...all types. When I stayed there the first time I remember thinking that I'd like to come back and stay there again, never thinking it would be a real possibility. Little did I know!

Returning to Gracias was nearly as wonderful as I'd imagined. It provided a much calmer atmosphere than San Pedro and allowed us a nice, if not traditional, time to reflect on what we're thankful for.

The first afternoon we roamed around town, exploring its nooks and crannies and hiked up to the fort to get some nice views of town. The fort is well-maintained and very picturesque. That night we found a decent meal in town and played witness to several 6th grade graduation celebrations as public school was coming to it's school-year end.

A Trip UP

Before ending the day, we reviewed several 'tour' options at Guancascos for the next day at the neighboring National Park, Celaque. They had a nice little brochure featuring several different hiking options, starting a two-hour "novice" hike ranging up to a 3-day overnight hike for those looking for a "challenge". Given our limited time, and assessing our hiking abilities as fair to middling, we chose an eight-hour "tour" (Dan will likely contest that he was less involved in the choice, and that I should take full responsibility but since I am writing I will leave you to make your own judgements). The word "tour" led us to believe it would be a leisurely 8 hours, so we packed adequate water and snacks and went to bed dreaming of the pleasant day that awaited us.

The day began with a lovely breakfast of fruit, granola and yogurt and we hopped in the hotel's truck to get a ride to meet our tour-guide. The ride was bumpy to say the least and came to a halt in front of a adobe shack where we were introduced to Luis, our guide. Dressed in typical campesino-style with a long-sleeve button down, jeans, cowboy hat and machete, Luis looked more than able.

We began our hike, and I began the difficult task of understanding Luis' rambling Spanish. My Spanish skills have proved adequate in San Pedro, allowing me to converse decently with my students' parents and exchange pleasantries with our taxi-drivers, etc. However, they came up woefully short as I tried to understand, and then translate for Dan, our new friend. Although still speaking Spanish, Luis spoke with a very different accent that made it tricky for me to understand- Imagine you've learned the Queen's English and then are sent to the South.

This tree can cure cancer, or something like that.

Regardless of the language difficulties, our hike began pleasantly and from what I gathered Luis told us many things about the local flora, including a lot about the medicinal nature of many of the plants. He showed us several that were edible, including a tasty little citrus fruit that we enjoyed throughout the day. We hiked on, remarking on the similarities of the Honduran countryside with Wisconsin's. The area is full of pine trees and ferns, but then the occasional palm tree or citrus fruit would remind us that there were indeed differences.

For about two hours we felt great. "What a great idea, Anah! This is perfect!", remarked my thankful husband. "Oh, yes, " I thought, marveling at my own travel-planning skills, "What a great idea." Then, during the third hour, as we continued to hike upwards it became clear that perhaps leisure wasn't going to play a large role in the day. Luis showed no signs of slowing down and our mini-lessons on medicinal plants stopped entirely as we struggled to keep up. Although, I'm pretty sure Dan was wondering if there would be any medicinal plants that could help with a sudden heart attack.


Finally, after four hours we breathlessly asked Luis if we could stop for a bite to eat. He tried to tell us that we could stop further up the way, but I insisted that a break was necessary NOW. So, we stopped and munched for awhile on our Nutella and bread sandwiches and washed it down with several gulps of water. Luis regaled us with tales of other hikers, primarily Spanish visitors and how he was glad we weren't "fat" like them because, "they want to rest every 10 minutes! They shouldn't eat so much fried chicken and smoke so much!". Feeling encouraged that at least we were not as out-of-shape as some Spaniards we packed up our foodstuffs and soldiered on. Despite the tough conditions and our burning leg muscles we were enjoying the beautiful hike and saw many amazing views. Also, the weather was nearly perfect as it was about 70 degrees and the dense forest provided lots of cool spots. We criss-crossed several streams and saw many beautiful little waterfalls.

Oh, it's so pretty!

We continued up for at least another hour where we ran into some French hikers who seemed somewhat disorientated and begged us for cigarettes. We of course had nothing to offer, they didn't seem interested in our raisins nor Nutella, but being concerned that they were perhaps lost we asked them if they wanted to join us for the remainder of our hike. When they learned that we were still on our way upwards, they declined which made Luis very happy as he had no interest in taking on the wayward smokers. We did however convince Luis to again let us rest a bit at their camp and we managed to snarf down another sandwich before again hitting the trail.

One of the wider, more well-defined parts of the 'trail'

Given that it had been about 5 hours I was beginning to get a little nervous so I asked Luis about how much longer the uphill climb would continue and he gave the vague reassurance that we were "cerca". We finally reached the pinnacle, and it was truly worth it. The
view was amazing and the different plants we saw around the top were also stunning. The top was full of interesting wild begonias and loads of flowering bromeliads.

This is a bromeliad. No es medicina.

This photo was taken by Luis. Apparently he thought by 'vista'
we meant 'make our faces huge'.

Here's the picture without our faces.

Relieved that the worst was over we happily began our descent. We patted ourselves on the back and started trekking down. It was easier on our lungs, but soon we learned (and in hindsight it shouldn't have been a surprise) that going down was going to be nearly as challenging as going up for our legs. The path was narrow, steep and slippery. Fearful of falling, I was taking my sweet time and getting a little frustrated as it seemed like the end was again painfully far away. Luis, I think, sensing my frustration offered a new strategy, "It is easier if you run". Oh really, Luis? Are you serious? But, giving no time for us to ponder the new strategy- Luis begins a steady jog and starts gingerly leaping over roots and rocks and therefore leaving us no choice but to follow suit. We were afraid our little guide would leave us deep in the Honduran wilderness so we did our best to trot after him, although we were no where near as nimble and certainly looked ridiculous- fortunately there were no onlookers.

But, finally we made it back and now, being a week later and the memory of the leg pain, breathlessness and fear of dying in the wild having faded significantly, I can say it was a wonderful hike and a fabulous idea.

Luckily, this is all I remember.

Our hotel host picked us up around 4 p.m. and we found our way back to Guancascos and enjoyed a few frosty beverages and a feast of food before retreating to our room and crashing. The next day we found a chicken bus back to Santa Rosa, and our friend the Duck awaited us to take us back to SPS.

All in all, another successful trip. Dan learned the valuable lesson of overseeing any decisions regarding added excursions and I found a real use for all those lunges and squats at the gym.