Notes from Honduras 4

A picture of Copan Ruinas, as we drove into town.

It was much more charming than it looks. (But not TOO charming: So it was perfect.)

-----

We drove straight through town to a butterfly house to see all the pretty mariposas.

A lovely setting.

I saw a pineapple plant! I'd never seen a pineapple plant before. I was very excited.

There was a wide variety of butterflies. But they were hard to capture with the camera.

This one posed for me, but only because she's old and tired.

We learned about the life cycle of a butterfly. We also had fun with our big laminated card of butterflies as we searched for and identified different kinds of butterflies.

My favorite one was mounted inside. It was a gorgeous blue metallic. See a picture of the blue morpho here. Isn't it breathtaking?

Look, a flower...

and it's not a tulip!

This is a view of the surroundings beyond the butterfly house.

It was so hazy (and humid!) that you can't see it in the above picture, but if you look closely at the hills in the distance, you can see a large area that has been deforested. The area surrounding Copan is lush: Trees, wildlife, and foliage are dense and abundant. It's just how you would imagine a jungle. But there are large areas that are stripped of their trees for the lumber and grazing. It's generally accepted that the fall of the Mayan city of Copan was brought on by deforestation. There was not a tree for 45 square miles! That's difficult to imagine...except for the fact that it is slowly happening again.

-----

After our visit with the lovely mariposas, we returned to the town and visited the small Mayan museum on the town square. (I love little local museums. Often underwhelming, but never without charms.)

The town's municipal buildings on the square.

-----

Then we did a little shopping for the kids. (After I stopped in to buy myself a "panuelo." Thank goodness I miraculously remembered the word. I forgot what a necessity a handkerchief is in 90% humidity.)

It's nice to know the EXACT SAME souvenirs are sold in Peru and the Dominican Republic (and many other places, I'm sure).

We settled on buying a soccer jersey for David. (It probably would have been more appropriate for Mary, who does circles around David in soccer, but I figured we didn't need to rub it on any more that his 2-year-old baby sister can kick his bootie in "futbol" any day.) A very nice lady at a little souvenir market helped me. She was so kind and patient with my Spanish, which, these days, is pretty rusty. She explained the different teams within Honduras, and gently laughed with me when I couldn't make up my mind and even returned ten minutes later to make an exchange. I say all this because our trip was so fast that we never really had a chance to interact with anyone in a meaningful way. Greg and I are both very reserved, so we're never ones to get invited over to dinner by the taxi driver. But it's always nice to spend a few minutes to get to know someone on a slightly less superficial level. Maybe even make a new friend. There wasn't really time for that--and it's doesn't happen as easily when you're not traveling with children. But from my limited interactions with people--like this woman at the market (or Sergio at the hotel, another story)--I have a very very good impression of Hondurans. I would love to spend more time with some of them.

-----

Anyway (I told you this would be rambling and random), I finally settled on this jersey from the Marathon team, located in San Pedro Sula. They are currently the country's champions. Greg fully approved of my choice. In fact, it had been his first choice all along. Do you like it?

Well, guess what. The following day, as we were driving back to San Pedro Sula, and I was watching the towns, with their bodegas, go by, I realized something: Salva Vida is the Honduras national BEER!!

This shirt is a walking BEER COMMERCIAL!

AND GREG KNEW IT!

Hello, Husband! The kid is FOUR! And we're MORMON!!

I asked Greg if he would want David wearing around a Budweiser shirt? No. Coors? No. Heineken? No. Corona? No.

Salva Vida?

"But I like the colors."

Yes, that was his response.

Oh well. David loves it. He wore it Friday. To a speech evaluation at the local elementary school. Good thing no one there keeps up on their Central American beers or he would have been expelled. (Well, except for the fact that he is not enrolled, so he couldn't be expelled.)

So, I have a set of Presidente dominoes from the Dominican Republic that I got on my mission. Presidente is the Domincan national beer. It may not be an entirely appropriate souvenir for a Mormon missionary to bring home. But it's better than turning your four-year-old into a walking advertisement for alcohol!!

-----

We checked into our hotel: The very lovely and intimate and beautiful and serene Yat B'alam Hotel.

Told you it was lovely and intimate and beautiful and serene.

Here is a view of the street from the balcony upstairs.

This is the one of the views from our room. It may not look like much in the picture, but I loved the old tile roof, the palm trees, and most of all, the mountain vista in the distance.

(I highly recommend this hotel, if you ever happen to be in the area. It also has some wonderful shops downstairs, where you can buy things that were actually made in Honduras. One shop sells beautiful, fragrant handmade candles made by a women's co-op that raises awareness about spousal abuse.)

-----

Dinner that evening was wonderful!

We started with this popular appetizer. I can't recall what the name is. But that's not important. What's important is how yummy it was!

It's basically a fondue of beans and cheese. Yum! I want some right now.

The main event was delicious too. Beans, rice, strips of beef, and fried ripe plantanos, served with cream, lime, and a chunk of cheese. And a pretty tomato.

It was so good. I'm not much of a beef eater, but this was some of the best steak I've ever had. It was so simple and so good. Food does not have to be complicated. Just good. Wow, I'm getting hungry...and craving this.

(Good food can be one of the worst parts of traveling--because then you CRAVE it when you get home. And no matter how hard you try, you can never quite recreate it.)

-----

That evening there was a tremendous, frightening storm! I was mesmerized by the sound of the rain slapping the tile roof. (At least it wasn't as deafening as it would have been had it been a metal roof.) I leaned out of the window and watched the lightening light up the jungle. I had this moment of feeling CONNECTED. I felt connected to the other families enduring the storm. I knew there were mothers comforting their children all across the valley. And for generations there had been mothers in this valley who had comforted their children in storms such as this. I thought of the Mayans. And more so than at the museum or the following day at the ruins, it was the storm that brought them alive to me. There were mothers, just like me, who had to comfort their children in the night, who worried what damage such a storm might bring. Who prayed for it to pass quickly. They were human beings, just like us. We really are all a part of the same family. God's family.

Notes from Honduras 3

The big to-do about Copan is the sculpture. Take this stele, for example:

Elaborate. Flamboyant. The carving is very deep, and in some places nearly fully round. The height of this style was during the reign of 18 Rabbit from 695-738 AD. Art was very important to 18 Rabbit, and the best artists in the Mayan realm were drawn to Copan.

What is on the other side of the stele? Super cool Mayan writing, of course!

Here is a closer look. (Notice the remnants of red paint. Everything would have been plastered and painted in bright colors.)

Those are not simply pictographs. It is an entire writing system. Some of the glyphs represent words, and some of them represent syllables. Others represent place names and gods. To complicate matters, different symbols can be used to represent the same syllable. I think it's fascinating. You can learn more here. And doesn't it LOOK cool? I love the way different languages LOOK.

Another stele:

Here is another view of the same stele:

Isn't that writing awesome?

A close-up:

More writing, this would have been on the outside of a temple:

Here is writing incorporating the Mayan number system:

Enough with the Mayan writing (for now anyway). Here are sculptures of men performing a very sacred ceremony. (The key is that little loin cloth.)

You'll have to ask Greg for details of the ceremony. (He courageously suffered through this book.) It's interesting, but not for the faint of heart. "It" being the book, the ceremony, and just hearing about the ceremony.

The last picture from the museum that I will share is this guy:

What a warrior! (I love his shield!) Oh, and check out that fashion forward footwear.

After the museum, we stepped into a cafe for baleadas and Fanta. (Why does Fanta taste better in other countries? Can anyone explain this to me?)

Then we drove up the road to the village of Copan Ruinas, our destination for the night.

Can you spot the stray dog in the picture? Actually, there were far fewer stray dogs than I had expected. (Perhaps the jaguars pick them off?)

-----

Here is the number one most surprising thing about Honduras. They have a helmet law! That people obey!! Holy cow, there isn't even a helmet law in Ohio! (Or here, but that would be expected.) Like many other places in the world, you'll still see an entire family on a motorcycle--but they're all wearing helmets! Isn't that great?! This truly endured Honduras to my heart. (Yes, I know I'm a weirdo: "Sure, Honduras, I liked your food and your jungle and your ruins, but what I really loved is your helmet law!")

Notes from Honduras 2

Our destination was the Mayan ruins of Copan. (Has anybody read Collapse? There is a chapter about Copan.)

Since it was the hottest time of day, we decided to visit the museum on site at the ruins that afternoon. Then we would return Monday morning to see the actual ruins.

Copan is all about the ARTWORK. Like it says here...

Many of the pieces have been removed from the ruins (and replaced with replicas) and housed in the museum. Since Copan is all about the sculpture, and most of the original sculptures are in the museum, the museum is a must-see.

Speaking of replicas, this is a full-scale replica in the museum. It's of "Rosalila," an inner temple found inside the largest pyramid in the center of the acropolis.

It's a super important archaeological find because of its well-preserved elaborately sculpted facade. There were even traces of paint found on the original, so we know in what colors it was decorated.

Mayan rulers built on top of the previous ruler's construction accomplishments. When a new king ascended to the throne, he would demolish or at least partially destroy the previous ruler's temples and build right on top. Mayan cities are layers and layers of temples and shrines. (This must be MADDENING for archaeologists!) "Rosalila" is remarkable because it was so sacred that the next king did not destroy it. He built a giant temple on top of it, but he was careful that the new temple encased "Rosalila." It seemed a miracle to archaeologists to find a PRESERVED temple inside the giant temple at Copan.

One of my very favorite things...this bat...

Isn't he awesome?

Here is the big deal about him...

Two of my favorite things...

Love that bat! Ready for more cool stuff?

How about this?

I don't know what it is. The signage at the the museum was scarce, and I didn't do my usual pre-trip reading. But I still think it's pretty cool.

I know you want a close-up.

Something else I liked.

(Again, clueless about its purpose or significance.)

Check out this selection of heads.

What a variety!

I love the skilled simplicity of this one. Simple, realistic. Classic.

Compare that to this...

Not "simple." (Yikes! Not one of my favorites. I don't have to love it all, right? Also, not typical Mayan, but typical Copan.)

Check out these claws.
Grrr!

Love this:

How can you not love this face (and those teeth!) surrounded by all those skulls? This is so awesome!

An even closer inspection...

At that concludes the FIRST HALF of my random pictures from the museum. Yes, I said FIRST HALF. Aren't you anxiously awaiting the second half?

In the mean time, I leave you with the head of this old man. (Isn't he great? Look at that toothless grin!)

Adios.

P.S. Isn't Mayan art cool?

Notes from Honduras 1

I love life. It's so weird. And surprising.

Just a few years ago if I had seen this image--my husband and I bidding farewell in some random Honduran airport as he leaves to board a flight to Tegucigalpa and I go board a flight to San Salvador--I would have thought, "What in the world?!!" Of course, in the moment it all made perfect sense, but out of context, confusing and unexpected. You just never know where life will take you.

I wish I had the time to organize my thoughts about my little trip to Honduras. But, seeing as how I still haven't unpacked or even cleaned up the mess I made while packing, I don't.

So instead you get a somewhat chronological random assortment of thoughts, pictures, notes, commentary, and maybe some reflection. This sputtering stream of semi-consciousness is primarily for myself. Enjoy?

-----

I left Saturday afternoon. I flew TACA airlines. (By far the best itinerary!) Apparently, "non-Hispanic white" people don't fly TACA. During check-in here at the Dallas airport I was asked several times if I was in the right place. To be honest, the moment I stepped into line at the airport, I already felt that I was in another country. The man in front of me was a native Salvadorian who is in the U.S. Army and has worked counter-narcotics operations in Columbia (and several other Latin American countries I can't remember). He was putting his grandmother and grandfather on the plane to El Salvador. This guy with his buzz cut and bulging biceps oozed archetypal military toughness. And this is what he had to say about the TACA check-in process: "This is a f------- inefficient operation!" He said it, not me.

-----

On the plane from DFW to San Salvador, I was the only person not Latin American. I stuck out like a soar thumb! Once we were in the air, the gentleman sitting next to me turned to me and said, "I'm going to talk to you in English now so you don't feel uncomfortable. I know what it's like to be surrounded by people speaking a language you don't understand. You feel left out. That's not a good feeling. I wouldn't want you to feel like that." Isn't that sweet? I didn't mention that I do actually--kinda, sorta--speak Spanish. But his English was much better than my Spanish, so I rolled with it. We had a very pleasant conversation.

His name is Jose, and he works for the city of Highland Village. His mother came to the U.S. in the seventies. He and his brothers soon followed. His dad was last. He didn't make it, and the experience was traumatizing, so he never wanted to try again. He has lived in El Salvador ever since. Jose was going for his annual visit to his father. In the eighties Jose was able to obtain legal status and eventually citizenship through Reagan's amnesty program. It was a long, complicated process. But definitely worth it. He and his wife met in high school, and they've been together over twenty years. They have had their ups and downs, but they have finally realized marriage is about commitment, real love is not like in the movies, and there is something very very good about a stable, secure relationship, where two people are used to each other and need each other. His wife works in a dentist's office. He has four children. The two oldest, boys, are going to community college. He also has a fourteen-year-old daughter. We agreed that fourteen is the hardest age, especially if you are a girl. They are in the process of planning a quincinera for his daughter. His wife is excited about it. He is not. His wife and his daughter went to a quincinera show (like a bridal show), and they've rented the hall and the Hummer (Hummer limos are all the rage for quincineras around here), and they are still looking for dresses. He also has a ten-year-old daughter. She is very sweet, and he doesn't want her to ever be fourteen. He misses the cheese in El Salvador. He also commented that NO ONE is trying to come to the U.S. from El Salvador because Mexico is so incredibly dangerous. Jose made sure I would know what to do and where to go when it was time to get off the plane. He also very politely ignored my cough.

-----

My connecting flight in San Salvador to San Pedro Sula was an hour delayed. It was hard to be patient because I was so excited to see Greg! (He had flown up from Tegucigalpa that day, and was waiting in San Pedro Sula for me.)

-----

For safety reasons, Greg has a list of hotels he is allowed to stay at in San Pedro Sula. It is a short list: the Hilton and the InterContinental. No complaints from me about the fact we HAD to stay in one of those hotels! (Greg chose the InterContinental.)

-----

That first night was my dream come true. I took NyQuil and crashed. I SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT! It was glorious and wonderful. It's amazing was a decent night's rest can do for a person.

-----

It was dark when I got to Honduras. So this was my first daylight view of San Pedro Sula. (You can see the Honduran flag at the Isuzu dealership.)

-----

Sunday morning I had my first baleada. This one had beans, eggs, and squeaky cheese. Hooray for squeaky cheese!

-----

Sunday morning we got our rental car. There was a bit of a disconnect between what Avis's website had said and reality on the ground. But it all worked out.

The major highways in Honduras don't exactly seem like major highways. They are small two-lane roads, sometimes riddled with potholes. Since he was unfamiliar with the road to Copan, Greg decided to rent an SUV to be safe.

Having just read Stones into Schools, in which Greg Mortensen makes more than a few critical comments about foreigners riding around in SUVs, I wasn't overly excited about the idea. But Greg assured me that everyone else would be in SUVs too. He was right. The other passenger cars on the roads were Toyota trucks and Honda CR-V sized SUVs. The more we drove around the country, the more apparent the reasons people don't bother with low suspension cars. So we fit right in, especially with the dents, scratches, and damaged bumper.

-----

On the road to Copan.

Want some orientation? Click here for a map. The capital is Tegucigalpa. Soto Cano Air Base is in Comayagua. We met in San Pedro Sula, and we drove up to Copan Ruinas.

-----

By any standards, Honduras in not a wealthy country. Driving along through the poverty was difficult for me. I never know how to feel about it, exactly. How do you deal with it emotionally? Reconcile it? There is really no way. It's so complicated. It was really affecting me that morning, much more so than in our travels of the last few years (like in Turkey and Egypt). I think it was because Honduras, of course, reminded me of the Dominican Republic. I was so well acquainted with the people there, in their homes, sometimes intimately involved in their lives--and, therefore, so well acquainted with their poverty. Which, again, I never learned to really cope with emotionally--because how can you? That morning in Honduras, on our drive, I was flooded with those complicated feelings I had confronted on my mission (and, end even more so, just AFTER my mission, when I was home again). I couldn't help but feel discouraged and hopeless.

But then we kept driving by these...

It's a chapel for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I will tell you why my heart soared when I saw these. These chapels are only built if there is a "critical mass" of active members of the Church. Local, native active members. And to be an active, practicing Mormon, your life has to be basically in order. Active members pay tithing, give offerings to the poor, emphasize education, plan for the future, visit other church members, spend time with family, go to church regularly, try to avoid working on Sundays, study the scriptures, attend the temple, and, since there are no paid or professional or full-time clergy, dedicate an enormous amount of time and energy to "running" the local church and administering its programs. To do all that, your life can't be a complete, total mess. Every one's life is messy, of course, but things in your life have to be somewhat in order and under control at least some of the time to be an active, fully-participating member. (The beauty, of course, is that being a member of the Church brings with it the strength, faith, and tools to get your life together.)

When I see one of these chapels, I am filled with hope. It may be located in a town cluttered with the humblest of homes. With my eyes, I can see only poverty. But when I see that chapel, I know that in that town, there are strong families. There are worthy priesthood leaders, which is no small thing. There are people who are working hard, contributing in their communities, sending their children to school, preparing to teach next week's Sunday School lesson. That chapel would not exist unless there were people who have stability in their lives, who have enough to serve others, who can take care of their families, are striving for a better life, people who are progressing. And because the chapel and those families who attend there exist in that town, even more people can come unto Christ and receive the spiritual blessings and the temporal tools they need to make a better life for themselves, both here and in the hereafter.

-----

One of many, many gorgeous views as we drove up towards the ruins. The day was hazy, so the picture doesn't begin to portray the real beauty of the countryside.

Also, notice the bird. I never ceased to be amazed by the richness of bird life!

I wish I had recorded the SOUNDS. Everything sounded so alive...the birds, the bugs, and I swear you could hear the plants growing too. I didn't want to get back in the car--I was mesmerized by the cacophony of bird songs.

-----

Our drive continued.

It took about three hours. Not bad!

Near the ruins, we drove through an area of coffee plantations...

We arrived at the ruins late in the afternoon.

Overall, it was a beautiful, energizing, interesting drive. Of course, the company was the best part!

TMI

I just dropped David off with the speech-language pathologist. This was his first time meeting her. Here is the first thing he said to her:

"I have an itchy bum."

(At least he said it crystal clearly.)

Earth Day

Sometime last summer, out of the blue, David declared: "I don't like Earth Day. All you do is stand around and hold up signs." (I had no idea he knew what Earth Day was--it hadn't been mentioned at his preschool. And how did he know that Earth Day is all about standing around holding up signs?)

This year David's preschool has put him in the swing of things. This week he told me very seriously, "Mom, we need to take care of the Earth." And, in the tradition of any half-decent educational institution in America, it's turned my child into a recycling Nazi.

(Ah, I remember those elementary school days when I, too, thought I would change the world by diligently cutting up the plastic six-pack holders to prevent birds from strangling themselves.)

When I was cleaning out the car, I went to throw away our styrofoam Sonic cups.* David reprimanded me for not recycling them. I told him that we can't. He patiently explained how I just needed to dump out the liquid inside and then put them in the recycling bin. I tried to explain how because they're made of styrofoam we can't recycle them. He wanted to know why. I have no idea why. I'm not a chemical engineer. So I told him, lamely, that we just can't. And when I tossed them into the trash, his disappointment and scorn burned me to my core.

How do you explain why styrofoam can't be recycled? I thought that was a pretty tough question. But then later today David asked me, in so many words, to explain the overhaul of the financial regulatory system. (Served me right: We need more Laurie Berkner and less NPR in the car.) And he would not let the subject drop! He was fascinated by it. Either that or he enjoyed watching his mom struggle. Revenge for the styrofoam cups?

(P.S. Speaking of Earth Day, I thought this was interesting, especially numbers 3 and 4.)

* You know you're becoming part Texan when Sonic becomes an integral part of your life.

Back in the saddle

I'm back!

I got home yesterday afternoon, cuddled with my kids, took David to swimming lessons, failed to keep a turd from rolling into my lap while changing a diaper (how long have I been changing diapers?!), put my kids to bed at the earliest possible time, and spent half the night awake with a coughing congested four-year-old who has a sore bottom.

Mary is taller, and her hair longer. She has been cuddly and clingy. But I'm not sure she missed me much.

But David did. A lot. He observed, "Mom, the days are different when you're not here." He also told me he had been worried I was going to have so much fun in Honduras that I wouldn't come back.

I did have so much fun. But I did come back.

Of course I came back.

I don't know how Greg can be that far away from his kids all of the time.

But I don't know how I can continue to be this far away from my husband.

It is time for our family to be back together.

Three more months. . .

Hasta luego

I am going to Honduras tomorrow!

I guess I was wrong about this. Greg and I will be celebrating our anniversary alone in the lush landscape of the Mayan Copan Ruins.

Too bad I feel crummy. I have a bad cold that keeps getting worse every day. I should be excited to explore part of another country. Instead, all I can fantasize about is passing out with a bottle of NyQuil on a king size bed in the San Pedro Sula InterContinental.

No matter what, I'll be with Greg. And THAT, my friends, is what's important.

It's a quick trip. When it comes right down to it, it's too hard for me to leave my children for very long. This is not an easy year for them, especially for David, and I don't need to make it harder by disappearing for a lengthy amount of time. So I will be back on my blog next week. And perhaps I will have more to show than pictures of hotel wall decor.

And, Greg, I will see YOU tomorrow!

Niceness

Being nice isn't so bad. Just last month niceness got me a full set of high end tires for FREE. And this morning I got some complimentary lip gloss to go along with my haircut because, well, why not? I'm nice.

Today I met with some woman at the elementary school who was so unprofessional that she never bothered to mention what her job was or why exactly we were meeting together. We're having David evaluated for speech again. It's been two years since he's had a thorough evaluation, and, since we're facing the whole "to kindergarten or not to kindergarten" decision, and it's evident he still has articulation problems, I thought it about time we have another evaluation.

Despite the fact the school is legally required to do the evaluation, this lady sure didn't want to proceed. But I smiled and assured her that we would be going ahead with the evaluation. She resisted. I smiled some more and acknowledged her concerns. And informed her I wanted to move ahead. There was more resistance. And more smiling and understanding head nodding. More resistance. More smiling. Resistance. Smiling.

Then I got a stern lecture about how I needed to be BEAR when it comes to my children--to take out my claws and be assertive and demanding and wound up. Yes, she told me to be "wound up."

She explained all this as she passed me the paperwork to proceed with the evaluation.

Apparently, she didn't much care for my niceness.

But it got me what I wanted.

Then I stood up, put on my new lip gloss, and walked out to my car, where I drove away on my fancy new tires.