Home Countdown: 1 Day!

Milk (and the cheese) sucks here in Honduras. I LOVE Wisconsin milk and I can't wait for a huge, cold glass of 2% milk.

Home Countdown: 2 Days!

Mmmmm..... dark beer!

Home Countdown: 3 Days!

If all goes well this will greet us (not the skier, but you get the idea) about 9pm Thusday!

Christmas at the Club

We were treated last night to a lovely party at the fanciest place San Pedro Sula has to offer, Club Arabe (Cloob Air-a-bay...sounds fancier with the accent). Our school hosts the party for all staff every year; including custodians, gardeners, teachers...everyone. It's a nice chance to see everyone outside of the classrooms and it gave us all an excuse to put on something a bit nicer than our teacher costumes. The place was gorgeous and we had excellent food. Our superintendent apologized for the fact it had to be on a Tuesday, apparently they booked it last year in October and by that time a Tuesday was the only day available. Not surprisingly, there are not too many fancy spots in SPS that can host several hundred guests. He promised that next year they already have it reserved and it is going to be on a Friday!

The party certainly signaled the official onset of the Holiday Season and we couldn't be happier. In officially one week we will be home and, although our blood is probably going to freeze as soon as we step off the plane, we couldn't be happier! See you all soon!

L to R 1) No, it's not ours 2) It's almost like it's not 90 degrees outside! 3) My life-saving assistant Ale

Happiness in a bottle

When we moved here in August we gladly embraced the national beers: Salva Vida, Imperial, Barena and Port Royal. It was hot as hell and these light-tasting beers went down like water. Jesse warned us that we'd tire of these beers, but at that time it seemed unlikely. But, as always, Mr. Nechodom proved correct and we are truly missing the tasty brews of home about now.

That's why, when we invited Jenna and Jesse over for chili and cornbread last night and Jesse arrived with a dark Porter for each of us it seemed like a blessing from above. As we've said it's been rainy and cold (no, not as cold as home...I promise I'm not complaining) so combined with the chili and cornbread, the meal was complete.

Jesse managed to find the goods at the nearby pharmacy and proceeded to buy the place out, confusing the check-out girl who remarked, "What is this stuff?". It's happiness, baby.

Good Beer*, Cornbread and Chili = Happy Wisconsinites
*Generally because it's Michelob it may be disqualified, but extenuating circumstances were considered.

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.

We spent the weekend chasing this damn leprechan!

Where's the friggin' gold?

This was our guide for Saturday as Anah and I spent eight (count 'em), eight hours hiking. Neither of us can really feel our legs right now.

Its been a really long time since we've posted and we're really sorry about that. Honestly, very few things have happened in the last couple of weeks. Its rained a lot (that's the "rainy season" for ya) and school has been so so.

In the next couple of days, we'll put some pics up from Anah's Thanksgiving party in her classroom and add to our adventures this past weekend.

Thoughts at School

Inbetween all the work at school my mind wanders and inevitably I find myself at the computer looking for something on the Internet. Today, its a tie between political porno (i.e. Barak Cabinet Updates, Liberman getting the shaft, etc) and a bit of homesickness.

Officially, the countdown is on. In exactly one month Anah and I will be back in Wisconsin with friends and family. For all the adventures and good times down here its nothing compared to a home-cooked-mom-meal and a few (or a lot?) of beers (Riverwest Stein, please?!?!??!) with friends.

Here's the result of a combination of Internet and homesickness; ladies and gentlemen, Milwaukee's Best (like that?). The Candliers!

My Current Dream

Bird is the Word

Anah didn't want me to post this, but after giving it a few weeks I've decided that I absolutely have to share something with you. The following are the contents of an e-mail I received early one morning:

Subject: Bird Flu- When birds attack

Just something to make you laugh...So, I am sitting at my desk this morning, with only 1 other student in the room. I'm checking my email and updating a few things. All of a sudden, I feel something big hit the side of my head. I assume it is a ball, my guess is that my student has accidentally hit me in the head with a beach ball we have in our class. Then, I look down. It is a BIRD. A BIRD FLU INTO THE SIDE OF MY HEAD. The BIRD DIED. Yes, it's true. My head is so gigantic that a bird hit the side of my head and died.

I am traumatized. I went screaming into Kim's room and I think she thought I was crazy, not to mention the poor student that was in my room at the time.

The end.

Big Head

Yes, blog readers, Anah killed a bird. I'm not really sure what to add to this whole story, but I'm assuming its safe now to post this because she's laughing at it all too.

A funny addition to this all is that the weekend following this terrible ordeal Anah and I went to a bird sanctuary in Copan with her parents. In the course of walking through the park I made my fair share of bird-to-head-to-death jokes, but since the birds were in cages no one (Anah) was in real danger until we met the toucans:



The video of the whole situation is pretty funny, too:

Crusin' Copan

About two weekends ago (sorry for the delaying in posting!), Anah and I were joined in Honduras by her parents, PJ and Nancy. This is obviously a great thing to have a set of parents come down and experience just a little bit of what is going on down here (mine will be coming for spring break!). Having arrived on Thursday, with a departure on Monday, it was imperative that we get the 'rents out of SPS ASAP.

Anah left PJ and Nancy very specific and phonetic Spanish directions from the airport and to our school and so their arrival went without fanfare. Having arrived before school was out they happened, by chance, to stop in the school's cafetorium where the middle was having their Halloween Talent Show. Luckily they left before seeing myself and the shop teacher sing (another story at another time).

On Friday, PJ and Nancy joined Anah at school and were classroom helpers. I'm told that their assistance in the class was very nice and the kids seem to get a real kick out of having them around. Nancy read to the kids and PJ showed the kids how to carve a pumpkin.

After school we were off to Copan Ruinas, a small town about three hours from the city. Copan is set in the Honduran highlands about 8 miles from the Guatemala border. Even though SPS is cooler right now it can still be hot and Copan is even more so, providing consistent cooler temps.

We stayed at a place called "La Casa de Cafe" (The House of Coffee) which was run by a former teacher at our school (of many years ago). The hotel was very beautiful and not too expensive.

On Saturday morning it was early rising for us all (as usual for any occasion with Sikorskys). We even beat the morning coffee from the hotel. It was well worth the wait... very delicious. We drank so much I think the owner of the hotel, Howard, was annoyed when we requested the stuff at all hours of the day.

Getting up early also had its upside because it meant that we could hit up the nearby Mayan ruins and beat the crowds that fill up the place later in the day. Just outside of Copan Ruinas is the site of one of the greatest Mayan cities in all of Central America. I won't give you all the details (you can read a bit about it here), but it was an amazing sight.

I've never been super interested in ancient history. Most of the books I've read from these periods have been super dry, are usually ambiguous in their facts ("some believe" or "scholars dispute...") and thus make for poor reading. However, going to Copan hit all of my history-nerd buttons. We paid a guide to take us around the ruins for a couple of hours and he basically just told is the story of them. It was so fascinating and since (apparently) the scholarship on the Mayans is getting more solid and historians have learned to write, the books on them is supposed to be halfway decent.

Beyond the ruins, Copan Ruinas (the town) is a quaint little place. They are obviously trying to follow the model of a place like Antigua, Guatemala (our adventures there) and beef up the tourist industry with their small-town-nature-closeness-colonial-beauty-lifestyle-approach.

It goes without saying, but the best part of it all wasn't being able to see ancient history or cruise a nice little Honduran town, but to see family. It was comforting to have family nearby when, until this weekend, they were all so far away.

It only gets me more excited to start planning spring break when I get to introduce my family to Honduras.

This is Nice

There certainly isn't more that needs to be said, but I can give it a shot.

Watching from afar I was terribly worried that somehow the moment where Barack Obama would be declared the winner of the US Presidential election would never come. Indeed I had been watching NBC for so long last night without earth-shattering news that I sort of zoned out when Brian Williams came back from commercial to announce Obama as the United States' 44th President.

Anah had gone to bed not too much earlier satisfied in the fact that all of the numbers were in Obama's favor. I, too, was pretty confident, but I needed to see/hear it for my own soul. I love politics and I love following all of this stuff for better or worse; tonight was no different.

I had five different electoral map trackers running. All of the major network websites up and running, and a few other sites to see if they were watching stuff I wasn't just so I could center on that moment when Ohio went to Obama, or maybe Virginia, or maybe Florida.

Its hard to put stuff like this into an appropriate context. I have not been personal wronged by the nation's racism that for so long has prevented African-Americans from not only running for president, but running for local office in most places. I am not a person who's job has been cut in this crippling economic recession. I am not a parent, sibling, or spouse of someone who had given life for their country in Iraq or Afghanistan. These most difficult experiences I have avoided.

To me, a student of history, I can always read about the injustices that we as a people have suffered, but experienced very few of them. To me, as to many Americans (and others around the world) it was less about overcoming the past and our faults, but an optimistic view of the future.

I believed that Obama provided the best opportunity to propel us forward as Americans; I believed that rather than relying on what we can't do or shouldn't do, we should look for what we can and might be able to accomplish. People with many more years of experience have warned me that this view is overly optimistic and that politics will always be politics. They may be right, but I suggest that there is nothing wrong with believing once in a while.

Every so often an individual comes along that transforms the world we live in. Without being overly dramatic Obama, given his rhetorical skills and strong beliefs in his ideals, has provided this current generation of Americans another opportunity to witness history in action.

Will he match the high ideas and soaring eloquence of a Martin Luther King Jr. or John F Kennedy? Will he transform the way government works for the people like Franklin D. Roosevelt? Will he crash to the ground in partisan gridlock?

These questions remain to be answered, but for one night and the following days Americans should take note that for the first time we have elected an African-American to the presidency. Once again, we have chosen hope over fear and change over continuity. Here's to hoping that this President lives up to his words and fills America with the strength and resolve that has guided us through so many other trying times.

After those nice words.. here's something more vulgar (yey, reassuring):