My photos from pre-service training.
http://www.facebook.com/jesse.kolar#!/album.php?aid=2496510&id=15938884
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Week 3 - 7/16/10
Week 3
The first stage of training has ended, and I will be moving to a community near Comayagua tomorrow (my mailing address will not change). My next host family Glenda and Isay are only 25 and 29 years old respectively, and don't have children, so it will be different. I'm somewhat bummed because children are wonderful for practicing Spanish, but it's a small community, so there will be children to hang out with.
Earlier this week I visited a volunteer, Josh, in the region of Olancho. Josh is a Protected Areas Management volunteer like me, but he's been here for a year. We got to know his site after watching the World Cup where The Orange Machine almost won:( He lives in a community within a buffer area of a protected area (all cloud forests above 1800m are protected in Honduras by the government, although not all forests are protected with proper enforcement). The community has ~12 homes and no electricity. You can only access it by foot or on horseback, and we had to strip down to cross a river in order to arrive at his house (the cold water felt awesome in the humid jungle).
For fun, we spelunked in the caves of Talgua (see if you can find pictures online; they're amazing). The oldest human remains from Central America are in the cave we explored (~10,000 years old) preserved by sodium bicarbonate. Supposedly they have glowing skulls (the sodium bicarbonate crystals are very shiny), but we could not see the six remaining skeletons because after the ~20/26 original skeletons were stolen, they sealed the chamber under lock and key. Still, the feeling while standing so close to such antiquity, in a cave decorated with stalactites, stalagmites, and formations that looked like frozen splashes of water, was quite mystical. Supposedly, the stalactites grow at a rate of 1 cm/50 years, so the 5-10 meter structures are...well very old. After walking, crawling, and wading for over 40 minutes into the cave we got to a point so tight that the bats couldn't escape without colliding into us-what an adventure.
We also trekked up a riverbed to an amazing waterfall, but on the way back I biffed it on a algae-covered rock and have a bruise the size of a coconut on my thigh to show for it. After that we went spelunking in one more lesser-known cave that had an entrance like a grand auditorium. But my leg wasn't doing too well, so we retired after that for dinner on the patio where we watched several species of toucans, woodpeckers, parakeets, and later on, fireflies.
The following day we walked ~45 minutes to a “nearby” school where Josh commonly teaches English to the teachers (the teachers are required, by law, to teach English, but they don't know English). He also uses a program sponsored by Colgate to teach children about dental hygiene, and more commonly, gives charlas (presentations/activities) on environmental topics. We spoke on animal migration, and after asking, “Does anyone here know the word migration, and what it means?” One little boy spoke up, “It's when people try to go to the U.S., but get kicked out and sent back to Honduras.” Paperwork for people to get into the US (Passports and Visas) is often more than 2 years of the average salary in that community. Anyway, Josh also works with the schools in three nearby communities, so he has an impact on a whole watershed, and he's working with one community 2 hours , on foot, up the mountain, to construct a new school implementing sustainable ideas like an improved stove, gravity fed irrigation for vegetable gardens, and compacted dirt walls, in order to model practices that are cheap and sustainable.
But now I've returned by foot, by taxi, by buses and more buses to my host family's home. On my return route I was conned by a great ploy. In order to save time, each bus has a collector, so you board, take your seat, or stand, and the bus keeps on going while someone walks the aisle to collect money. I boarded a bus out of Tegucigalpa that was waiting to be filled, and a collector walked the aisle while we were waiting. I paid 20 Lempiras (~$1), expecting 10-15 back, but the collector shook his head and said, “20 to Zarabanda,” which was b.s, it should only be 7 Lempiras. Then, he returned to the front of the bus, GOT OFF THE BUS, and RAN! Then, the REAL collector walked the aisle! Fortunately, he only charged me 5 Lempiras. Ha ha, I guess if you're that clever, you deserve 20 free Lemps.
As far as health is concerend, thus far, only one cold, and a rumbling stomach after the new high-fiber diet of beans, beans beans, and a little rice. ...And a gimp leg, but it's healing rather quickly.
I love and miss everyone, especially Eli, Ayla and Owen! ¡Que le vaya bien!
The first stage of training has ended, and I will be moving to a community near Comayagua tomorrow (my mailing address will not change). My next host family Glenda and Isay are only 25 and 29 years old respectively, and don't have children, so it will be different. I'm somewhat bummed because children are wonderful for practicing Spanish, but it's a small community, so there will be children to hang out with.
Earlier this week I visited a volunteer, Josh, in the region of Olancho. Josh is a Protected Areas Management volunteer like me, but he's been here for a year. We got to know his site after watching the World Cup where The Orange Machine almost won:( He lives in a community within a buffer area of a protected area (all cloud forests above 1800m are protected in Honduras by the government, although not all forests are protected with proper enforcement). The community has ~12 homes and no electricity. You can only access it by foot or on horseback, and we had to strip down to cross a river in order to arrive at his house (the cold water felt awesome in the humid jungle).
For fun, we spelunked in the caves of Talgua (see if you can find pictures online; they're amazing). The oldest human remains from Central America are in the cave we explored (~10,000 years old) preserved by sodium bicarbonate. Supposedly they have glowing skulls (the sodium bicarbonate crystals are very shiny), but we could not see the six remaining skeletons because after the ~20/26 original skeletons were stolen, they sealed the chamber under lock and key. Still, the feeling while standing so close to such antiquity, in a cave decorated with stalactites, stalagmites, and formations that looked like frozen splashes of water, was quite mystical. Supposedly, the stalactites grow at a rate of 1 cm/50 years, so the 5-10 meter structures are...well very old. After walking, crawling, and wading for over 40 minutes into the cave we got to a point so tight that the bats couldn't escape without colliding into us-what an adventure.
We also trekked up a riverbed to an amazing waterfall, but on the way back I biffed it on a algae-covered rock and have a bruise the size of a coconut on my thigh to show for it. After that we went spelunking in one more lesser-known cave that had an entrance like a grand auditorium. But my leg wasn't doing too well, so we retired after that for dinner on the patio where we watched several species of toucans, woodpeckers, parakeets, and later on, fireflies.
The following day we walked ~45 minutes to a “nearby” school where Josh commonly teaches English to the teachers (the teachers are required, by law, to teach English, but they don't know English). He also uses a program sponsored by Colgate to teach children about dental hygiene, and more commonly, gives charlas (presentations/activities) on environmental topics. We spoke on animal migration, and after asking, “Does anyone here know the word migration, and what it means?” One little boy spoke up, “It's when people try to go to the U.S., but get kicked out and sent back to Honduras.” Paperwork for people to get into the US (Passports and Visas) is often more than 2 years of the average salary in that community. Anyway, Josh also works with the schools in three nearby communities, so he has an impact on a whole watershed, and he's working with one community 2 hours , on foot, up the mountain, to construct a new school implementing sustainable ideas like an improved stove, gravity fed irrigation for vegetable gardens, and compacted dirt walls, in order to model practices that are cheap and sustainable.
But now I've returned by foot, by taxi, by buses and more buses to my host family's home. On my return route I was conned by a great ploy. In order to save time, each bus has a collector, so you board, take your seat, or stand, and the bus keeps on going while someone walks the aisle to collect money. I boarded a bus out of Tegucigalpa that was waiting to be filled, and a collector walked the aisle while we were waiting. I paid 20 Lempiras (~$1), expecting 10-15 back, but the collector shook his head and said, “20 to Zarabanda,” which was b.s, it should only be 7 Lempiras. Then, he returned to the front of the bus, GOT OFF THE BUS, and RAN! Then, the REAL collector walked the aisle! Fortunately, he only charged me 5 Lempiras. Ha ha, I guess if you're that clever, you deserve 20 free Lemps.
As far as health is concerend, thus far, only one cold, and a rumbling stomach after the new high-fiber diet of beans, beans beans, and a little rice. ...And a gimp leg, but it's healing rather quickly.
I love and miss everyone, especially Eli, Ayla and Owen! ¡Que le vaya bien!
First Two Weeks in Honduras - 7/7/10
First two weeks in Honduras
After leaving Houston, TX, our group arrived in Tegucigalpa at around 11AM, and after customs, only one of 57 people lost a bag, (and it arrived the next day). That first afternoon, we ate pizza for lunch with apples (a rare fruit in Honduras) and bananas, in a secure parking lot next to the airport. We were organized into and rode to our training cite up in the mountains. The training cite is a beautifully manicured “lodge” where there are airy rooms for group sessions and smaller classrooms. It is surrounded by forest, and couldn't be much nicer. Also, each day we have purified water coolers and some of the best coffee I've had.
After a brief introduction, our host families picked us up from the training center and drove us to neighboring communities where we'd be living (since then, a bus takes us to and from the training center). My host mother and father, Alba and Ernesto, were somewhat too excited to meet me, and spoke too rapidly for me to comprehend. We arrived at their home, and I was shown my room (see pictures) and the rest of the “house.” I say “house” because there is not actually one solid structure, but rather, a few rooms and a few walls put together in juxtaposition so that the area between (the “hallway”), and the kitchen are not enclosed. So even though my bathroom is right across the “hallway” from my bedroom, if it's raining, I have to get wet to squeak a leak.
If you've read on other Honduran Peace Corps Volunteer blogs, you already know that sinks are not common in rural areas either. We use a large concrete basin called a pila for a water source, and scoop the water from the basin to a concrete “sink” that has it's own drain to wash clothes, hands, face, dishes, etc... Also, I'm lucky because we have indoor plumbing, so I actually have a real shower, albeit, only cold water—que refresco! Unfortunately, the plumbing doesn't tie into the toilet (other than the drain of course), so in order to flush, we just dump a few pails of water into the bowl. It's not too inconvenient, but when other people use the bathroom, they're not good at dumping pails of water into the bowl, so often there's water around the toilet, and it always seems like someone had poor aim.
The rest of my host family includes Luisa (13) and Oscar (16) and Cristobal (23), a Michigan grad who rents a room from my host family. Luisa has been an amazing help with my Español, as she's patient enough to rephrase things when I don't understand. Oscar, on the other hand, is not quite as patient, and while joking around with Cristobal and I, usually resorts to malas palabras or funny cultural signs. For example, here, if you hold your fist near your body (usually your stomach), and extend it to your side while making any noise resembling a fart, it means diarrhea, so we laugh while doing this gesture repeatedly.
Three paragraphs in a row with potty humor in the last sentence; I'm doing well.
My typical day currently includes waking at 5:45 to the cockledoodledoos (keekeleekee en Espanol) of nearby roosters, taking my cold, quick shower, eating breakfast (anything from corn flakes with hot milk to something resembling a white cheese tostoda), and heading up the block to the bus stop. We normally have language classes for the first 4 hours, and after lunch (seasoned rice, tortillas and a meat dish packed in a thermos by my host mom), we learn about security (Google crime rates in Honduras for fun), health (Google Chinches picudas, dengue or malaria in Honduras), or technical training, for me and 17 others (protected areas management). Despues, a bus ride back home, dinner, soccer or hanging around talking, telenovelas (typically Dona Barbara, but Lucha Libre (WWF) on Saturdays and Sundays), and then I retreat to my room to write a few lines home, look up all the words I didn't recognize, or want to learn to say, and then crawl under my mosquito net and fall asleep to the yaps, barks and howls of what must be thousands of local dogs. If I'm lucky, it begins to rain (most nights), and then the sound of raindrops on my sheetmetal roof lets me fall quickly asleep.
And although it's not raining tonight, the crickets and frogs are currently louder than the dogs, so I'm going to get some rest. ¡Cheque leque!
After leaving Houston, TX, our group arrived in Tegucigalpa at around 11AM, and after customs, only one of 57 people lost a bag, (and it arrived the next day). That first afternoon, we ate pizza for lunch with apples (a rare fruit in Honduras) and bananas, in a secure parking lot next to the airport. We were organized into and rode to our training cite up in the mountains. The training cite is a beautifully manicured “lodge” where there are airy rooms for group sessions and smaller classrooms. It is surrounded by forest, and couldn't be much nicer. Also, each day we have purified water coolers and some of the best coffee I've had.
After a brief introduction, our host families picked us up from the training center and drove us to neighboring communities where we'd be living (since then, a bus takes us to and from the training center). My host mother and father, Alba and Ernesto, were somewhat too excited to meet me, and spoke too rapidly for me to comprehend. We arrived at their home, and I was shown my room (see pictures) and the rest of the “house.” I say “house” because there is not actually one solid structure, but rather, a few rooms and a few walls put together in juxtaposition so that the area between (the “hallway”), and the kitchen are not enclosed. So even though my bathroom is right across the “hallway” from my bedroom, if it's raining, I have to get wet to squeak a leak.
If you've read on other Honduran Peace Corps Volunteer blogs, you already know that sinks are not common in rural areas either. We use a large concrete basin called a pila for a water source, and scoop the water from the basin to a concrete “sink” that has it's own drain to wash clothes, hands, face, dishes, etc... Also, I'm lucky because we have indoor plumbing, so I actually have a real shower, albeit, only cold water—que refresco! Unfortunately, the plumbing doesn't tie into the toilet (other than the drain of course), so in order to flush, we just dump a few pails of water into the bowl. It's not too inconvenient, but when other people use the bathroom, they're not good at dumping pails of water into the bowl, so often there's water around the toilet, and it always seems like someone had poor aim.
The rest of my host family includes Luisa (13) and Oscar (16) and Cristobal (23), a Michigan grad who rents a room from my host family. Luisa has been an amazing help with my Español, as she's patient enough to rephrase things when I don't understand. Oscar, on the other hand, is not quite as patient, and while joking around with Cristobal and I, usually resorts to malas palabras or funny cultural signs. For example, here, if you hold your fist near your body (usually your stomach), and extend it to your side while making any noise resembling a fart, it means diarrhea, so we laugh while doing this gesture repeatedly.
Three paragraphs in a row with potty humor in the last sentence; I'm doing well.
My typical day currently includes waking at 5:45 to the cockledoodledoos (keekeleekee en Espanol) of nearby roosters, taking my cold, quick shower, eating breakfast (anything from corn flakes with hot milk to something resembling a white cheese tostoda), and heading up the block to the bus stop. We normally have language classes for the first 4 hours, and after lunch (seasoned rice, tortillas and a meat dish packed in a thermos by my host mom), we learn about security (Google crime rates in Honduras for fun), health (Google Chinches picudas, dengue or malaria in Honduras), or technical training, for me and 17 others (protected areas management). Despues, a bus ride back home, dinner, soccer or hanging around talking, telenovelas (typically Dona Barbara, but Lucha Libre (WWF) on Saturdays and Sundays), and then I retreat to my room to write a few lines home, look up all the words I didn't recognize, or want to learn to say, and then crawl under my mosquito net and fall asleep to the yaps, barks and howls of what must be thousands of local dogs. If I'm lucky, it begins to rain (most nights), and then the sound of raindrops on my sheetmetal roof lets me fall quickly asleep.
And although it's not raining tonight, the crickets and frogs are currently louder than the dogs, so I'm going to get some rest. ¡Cheque leque!
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