Cost of living

Several people have asked us about cost of living here in Honduras and we give what is, I'm sure, a dissatisfying answer. We usually say, "Well, some things cost more and some things cost less," which I'm sure the more astute askers of the question could have figured out. Part of the problem is that we can't just come up with specific examples off the top of our heads very often. Yes, coffee is cheaper and cereal is more expensive but that doesn't provide much of a perspective. Perhaps this will.

We have been having problems with our water pressure. So today two plumbers* who have done some work at the church stopped by. They worked at the house for about an hour and a half: removing the pressurized tank, draining it, removing the rubber bladder, checking it for holes, reinstalling it all and testing the system thereafter.

The charge? $35.00.

Can you even get a plumber to show up for that?

* Calling these guys plumbers is a bit unfair. They also do electrical, carpentry, and bricklaying. 

Further firsts, friends, and fare thee well

Our first year of life and ministry here in Tegucigalpa, Honduras passed without much event on August 17. The very next day we welcomed our first visitors. Perhaps contrary to expectations, they were not family members but, rather, a group of Stephen's former students come to experience life in Honduras and tour the plethora of ministries represented in the church. We had a fantastic week with Laura, Wendy, Katie, Sarah and Carly. We enjoyed many bumpy miles traveling about seeing the sights and experiencing many ministries.

This first visit gave us our first "team" experience, something many in the congregation go through regularly. We also had our first visit up to the Christ of the Picacho statue that overlooks the city (where the above picture was taken.)

We also had our first visit to Immigration this week. Up to this point our paperwork has been handled by a friend (may the Lord bless him). However, we have reached the stage in residency proceedings  where our presence--or at least that of our faces and fingerprints--were required. We now have residency status though it will be a month before we are issued our cards.

But, in truth, the "firsts" are few and far between now. We are experiencing far more "seconds"--Ellyn's second first day of school, second fall ministry kick-off--many other "multiples", and yes, a few "oh, not that agains."

And so, I find it time to bid our tiny yet faithful blog reading audience adieu. After all, the subtitle of the blog did warn that it was only intended to chronicle our first year. And I need not point out how sporadic posting has become anyway.

We know that many of you will continue to follow us in various ways in the months ahead, for which we are thankful. We are grateful for the support and encouragement we have experienced from near and far in this first year. We look forward to God's continued provision as we continue in kingdom labors.

This one's for Papa

We have been meaning to post this for a long time for anyone's enjoyment but especially Ellyn's Papa from Nebraska.  This is a nearby fire station.

Catracho Pride, part 2

Around my birthday I posted about my wife's gift to me of a Honduran national team futbol jersey. I don't wear it often because I feel just a tiny bit self-conscious in it here in Honduras because I fear it makes me look like a gringo trying to be culturally relevant or something.
However, I had no qualms about displaying it publicly during our recent visit to the states because, quite frankly, I'm sure most people have no idea that it represents a country, never mind which one.
To my surprise, on two occasions when I wore it it occasioned comments from others. The first took place in a Chipotle restaurant in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. I had the following conversation with one of the employees.

"Where'd you get that jersey?"
"Honduras."
"What? You been there or something?"
"We live there."
"Don't tell me you like it there?!"

It turns out that he was born in Tegucigalpa and lived here until he was in his early teens whereupon he (and his family I presume) moved to New Jersey. We later had a bit longer conversation about the country and his and our thoughts about it.
On another day, this time in Harrisonburg, Virginia, I vaguely heard someone say something behind me. A second later they tried again and I caught the words, "Hey, Americano Catracho!"

A sad day and a happy day

Ellyn has a children's version of the crucifixion and resurrection entitled "A Sad Day and a Happy Day." That title could serve pretty well for our day today.

It was a sad day because today was the last Sunday in Honduras for a few of our members. In one sense it is just a part of the ministry here that people come to the country and the church for a few years before moving on, so the church is used to it. On the other hand, I don't know that you ever completely get used to saying goodbye to people.

It was a happy day because in addition to our regular service and communion, we celebrated a baptism followed by an "end of the year" picnic. It was wonderful to participate in so many Acts 2 activities in one Sunday.

The new normal

Probably the single greatest "cultural" difference that we have experienced since coming to Honduras (apart from the whole language thing) is the driving culture. If you put a group of ex-pats together the conversation will turn to driving before too long.

There's just so much to talk about. Because just when you think you've seen it all, you're wrong. Like when several people decide that this long line can't possibly be for the left turn lane so they go on the outside of it only to get to the light and realize that, yes, it was the left turn lane and now they are in the left lane of oncoming traffic at one of the busiest intersections in the city. Or when the power goes out at the same intersection and 8 lanes of through traffic and 4 left turn lanes are attempting to negotiate the intersection without any plan. (Yes, this did happen, and yes, it did look a great deal like the game RushHour.)

There are three possible responses to the realities of driving here:

• Irritation. By far the most popular, this is a poor choice because the sheer number of opportunities for exasperation almost guarantee that your blood pressure will permanently assume an unhealthy level.
  
• Resignation. Its principal symptom being deep and regular sighs, resignation is slightly better for your health than irritation but not really a long-term solution. Even the Dalai Lama would be brought to wits' end. There are just too many possibilities for unexpected flare-ups for one to maintain a permanent attitude of transportational disinterest.
  
• Expectation. The hardest to cultivate yet the most rewarding, this response remains open to the limitless possibilities that lie around every corner. Only if you maintain an attitude of expectation can you derive the full joy from driving here. Then you can wring the full delight out of such phrases as: 
• "Look! It's a cow walking down the road in the middle of town." 
• "Hey! A taxi passing a busito passing a bus! (The Teguz traffic equivalent of turducken.) 
• "Nifty! A taxi up on a jack with its tire off in the middle of the intersection."
• "Wow. A car with one tire up in the air because another went into a manhole with no cover."
• "I would have never thought of four cars going through after the light turned red."

For the record, on any given day I exhibit all three of these.

Random observation

Moving to a Spanish-speaking country raises exponentially the likelihood that your friends in the states will refer to you as "amigo."

Weird Waftings

Both yesterday and today I have had unexpected things wafting through my window:

• Yesterday it was the sounds of my native tongue. Now, granted, as pastor of an English-speaking church I hear my share of English in this Spanish-speaking land, but not often is there a group of young people outside my window chatting in English. So unexpected was it that it took me awhile to grasp what was happening. Then the conversation turned to various ways to swear in Spanish significantly diminishing my interest.
  
• Today it was a passing whiff of freshly-mowed grass. There is not a great deal of grass in Honduras in general and in our neighborhood in particular there are only postage-stamp sized "lawns" so I have no idea where it came from but it provoked a brief moment's reverie. 

DMV

I have had the "privilege" of dealing with the Department of Motor Vehicles or its equivalent in 4 states and now 1 foreign country. There seems to be some transcultural features of this particular branch of bureaucracy.* Honduras offers its own permutation on the theme.

Because the country has run out of license plates, many cars (ours included) are forced to drive without them. However, one must have permission to drive without a plate so there is a form one must carry with them to establish the legitimacy of their platelessness. Now whether out of shortsightedness or optimism that the necessary plates will soon be produced, the aforementioned certificate of permission to drive without plates is only valid two months at a time. So every two months I have to go to DEI to have someone put a seal and a new date on the back of this form. For DMV type transactions it's fairly painless, but inconvenient to have to do so often.

Well I am due this week to renew but I observed earlier in the week that DEI had abandoned the offices that I was familiar with. (I've been told that the government does not own many or even most of the buildings it uses.) But I did not know where it had moved. Through a fortuitous phone call from a friend who works at the Embassy I learned that it had moved around the corner. I was fortunate enough to find a parking space on the street (the building has about 4) where someone would wash my car and resist stealing my mirrors for a mere $3. Upon entering the new DEI building (a huge improvement on the previous one) I was informed by the guard that the particular section of the department that I needed was no longer housed in the same building as DEI. He kindly offered directions. I don't thrill to taking down directions in Spanish so I tend to quiz the information giver just for my own security that I know what he's talking about.

In the end it was late enough in the day that I didn't think that I had time to make it to this new office before they closed so I will add it to my errands for Monday. The whole thing isn't really that bothersome. The only part about it that galls me a bit is that in their last location, from where I had to wait for my form to be renewed, I could see a room with shelves absolutely filled with license plates.

Can I have one of those?


*The one exception in our experience may be Nebraska. We did interact with plenty of the expressionless DMV type workers there, but had one employee track down a title problem with WI on our behalf, and actually had a few DMV employees casually joke with us while they processed our documents!

Why I'm glad I DON'T live in Belgium

After the last post I was afraid people might think that I'm discontent in Honduras and pining to serve God somewhere else. So as a follow-up I thought I'd give you a list of reasons why I'm glad I don't live in Belgium.

• I don't speak Flemish or Frenchish.
• I'm not a huge fan of waffles.
• Cost of living is much lower here.
• I don't have to fly overnight to get to the states.
• I rather like rice and beans.
• I'm average height here.
• There's really good but cheap coffee here.
• It doesn't cost as much to fly to the states.
• It's not gray and rainy 300 days of the year.
• Protestants are nearly a majority here.
• The people here are friendlier. (Well, so they tell me. Not being especially friendly myself, I don't feel qualified to assess whether they are or not.)

Some perspective

As some of you know, my (Stephen's) sister and her family have ministered for several years in the Flemish-speaking region of Belgium. They went intending to do church leadership development but have ended up doing as much church leadership themselves as training anybody else to do it. In any event, there are similarities between our work.

However, I must confess that on more than a few occasions since arriving here in Honduras I have had cause to make mental note of certain inequalities in our callings, you might say. Often these are prompted by my brother-in-law's regular picture updates. As I (and most of humanity) am wont to do, I compare our situations.

• They have quaint European villages and shops. We have dilapidated third world style architecture and markets with animals in varying states of life, death and dismemberment.
• They have a cozy farm house in the country. We have a cinderblock condo behind a gate with a guard.
• They have universal health care. We have universal security issues.
• They have relatively easy access to France, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, etc. We can take eternal bus trips to Guatemala, El Salvador, and Nicaragua. (Not knocking CA countries, but at least to me they don't measure up to the tourist bonanza that is Europe.)
• They have 300 types of cheese, fresh bread, chocolate, waffles, and fries. We have rice and beans. (For me this one almost breaks even. But not for Debbie.)

As you can see, by my quick reckoning, Honduras doesn't measure up too well. Clearly God loves them more than he loves us, right? But today I have been brought me up short about at least one resource we have that they don't.

Recently my sister and her husband had to address an inappropriate song that was being used in their son's third grade class. After confronting the teacher with their concerns, they ultimately requested permission for their son to sit out of this song and dance routine. This, of course, took place in a public education institution. In general they have been pleased with their sons' education but this is not the first incident that they have had to deal with.

As my wife was telling me all this the realization hit me forcefully that one of the great blessings that we have here is a plethora of quality Christian education options. I have long been of the conviction that there is no one right educational choice and that all of the options--Christian, home, private, public--demand much of the parents in offsetting and addressing the dangers and shortcomings particular to each model. But we are absolutely convinced that our daughter's teachers have not only her best educational interests in mind but care for her spiritual well-being as well. That is a gift.

I won't lie. I will probably always rather visit Switzerland than Nicaragua. And this realization of our blessing is not likely to cure me of my tendency to think others have it better than I do. But it supplies me with a new truth to speak to myself when the lies and distortions come my way.

Have "helmet" will travel

Motorcycles are ubiquitous here. And by ubiquitous I mean really, REALLY annoying. There appear to be no rules governing motorcycle traffic patterns.

There must be rules requiring helmets, however, because virtually all motorcyclists and riders are seen wearing them. The type and use of the helmet seems not to be very regulated because I have seen all of the following serving as motorcycle headgear:

The standard motorcycle helmet. Many of these are seen to be in less than stellar condition and even more frequent is to see riders with the helmet tipped back on their head so they are not looking through visor but rather under the chin of the helmet.

The standard bicycle helmet. This is especially common on motorcycle passengers which I just can't figure. First, passengers tend to be children or girlfriends/wives. Wouldn't you want to give them the superior protection? Furthermore, the driver has something to hold on to and is more likely to know when the accident is going to happen. Give him the chintzy helmet! (By the way, a common passenger arrangement is smallest child in front of driver, medium child behind driver, and wife behind that.)

I have also witnessed the following as helmets:

The Batting Helmet

The Hard Hat

And for the first time today...

The Equestrian Riding Helmet

Greenery

One of our supreme delights here in Honduras is the wide variety of beautiful flora. It seems that something has been in bloom since we arrived in August. Often the colors are just eye-popping to us.

We recently have acquired a few plants by various means.

This one was on the patio when we moved in but has recently blossomed. We find its blossoms humorous (see close up below).

This little guy started growing in the drain in our pila (read: laundry room). We're not sure what he is yet, but we thought we'd at least give him a better home.

Recently a friend bought us a tree. We have long found members of family araucaria. We're not sure exactly which species ours is, but we like it nonetheless. (In the picture below you can also see a recently acquired aloe plant and our latest attempt to get avocado pits to sprout, or "spout" as Ellyn says).

Let the re-education begin

Well, it is only day three of Ellyn's schooling and we are already afeared that a future transition into the American schooling culture may be rough.

Today Ellyn came home singing a song that was sung at school--her first exposure to this rollerskating classic. It seemed a familiar ditty up to a certain point.

You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out,
You put your right foot in, and you shake it all around.
You do the hockey-pockey and turn yourself around,
That's what it's all about!

You do the WHAT? The above attempts to capture Ellyn's pronunciation which we take to be her attempt to recreate what she heard from the teachers. 

We wonder: will this get her picked on in the states?

Honestly, from a purely linguistic standpoint we're a bit baffled by this. The letter "o" in Spanish is only ever a long "o", as in, say, the word "hō-key". Why the native Spanish speakers here would pronounce the word "hokey" as "hockey" is beyond us. It may be related to the fact that the letter "h" in Spanish is almost entirely silent except in some loan words like, say, "hockey" for which Spanish has no word of its own (owing in large part, no doubt, to the fact that there are very few Spanish-speaking countries with naturally occurring ice).

To write "hokey-pokey" in a way that a Spanish speaker might pronounce it similarly to how we do in English it would have to look something like this: joqui-poqui. Even at that, the initial "j" would likely be more guttural than we pronounce the initial "h" in English. (For an idea of a guttural "j", think of how some pretentious people pronounce the last two letters of Johann Sebastian Bach's last name). 

(For the further linguistically curious: there is absolutely nothing right about the word "hockey" being used in Spanish. As already mentioned, the "h" is aspirated rather than silent and the "o" is short instead of long. But beyond that, the letter "k" is hardly ever used in Spanish, and consonant clusters like "ck" that produce only one sound are uncommon and "ck" in particular is unheard of. Furthermore, few words in Spanish end in "y".)

The Lord is Risen!

We enjoyed our Resurrection Sunday Sunrise service at Parque España, a small park near the church that overlooks the city. Since Sunrise came at around 5:30am I must confess that it was a "Sunrise Service" in name only; we met at 7:00. 

We were privileged to have the Coro Unido (United Chorus)--a volunteer choir of members from various churches--encourage us with two familiar songs: "Un Día" (One Day) and "La tumba se encerró" (Christ Arose). We joined voices--and languages!--on one verse and chorus of "Christ Arose."

After the early service we ate breakfast together and then had a time of fellowship until our regularly scheduled worship service. 

We hope that you had a similarly joyous celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

 The Coro Unido warming up. They arrived at 6:15am to rehearse, sang two songs in our 7am service, then left to serve in their own churches! Thank you!

A view of the choir and the city.

Choir and congregation.

Holy (week) Hail!

Though rainy season is still over a month away, we have had a few cloud bursts recently. Today's was quite dramatic with thunder, lightning and even hail! Perhaps because of the hills and valley, the storm seemed to linger and the thunder seemed quite close for some time. The surrounding countryside is quite dry so the rain is welcome.

We are still in our first year so are still experiencing things for the first time. This week the experience of note is the mass exodus that takes place during Semana Santa or Holy Week. The newspaper reported the other day that over 50,000 people had already left the city. Apparently, life almost comes to a standstill.

Among the departed is a hefty percentage of the congregation. Many of our number are teachers and so have the week off. Costa Rica, Roatan, Utila, Panama, Copan, and Colorado were all mentioned as destinations this week. We still hope to have at least a few faithful at our services this weekend.

Last week I was invited to join a friend for a day trip about an hour outside the city. Equipped with portable equipment and over 1000 pairs of used glasses, we set up in a medical center and in a few hours examined over 40 people and gave out quite a number of glasses. It was fun to experience a different bit of ministry life and to see the profound improvement that a simple pair of used glasses can make. Thanks, Mark, for the invite!

Going Bananas

One of the small surprises that we have enjoyed since coming to Honduras are the bananas. Now bananas are fairly consistently available in the States so we have long been banana consumers. But the bananas here are better. I know that you're probably thinking: "A banana is a banana. How much better could it really be?" Well, I wouldn't say that they are wildly better but we have both commented that the fresh banana flavor of Honduran bananas is more intense than the bananas we're used to. They don't taste different than what we're used to, just more so.

I've been thinking about this because it is a pretty good description of how life has felt of late, not different, just more intense. In ministry there has been an increase in the number and depth of discipleship/counselling opportunities. We are becoming more keenly aware of the regular, ongoing needs of the congregation, needs that deserve greater attention. From dabbling in Spanish, Debbie has begun working more intently on making progress in the language. Parenting could fall in this category as well.

This intensification is not unwelcome (please note double negative). It is a part of life, and indeed, a sign of greater kingdom potential. But it has certainly made us more aware of our need for a vibrant personal prayer life and the blessing of prayer partners elsewhere.

Thank you for how you partner with us.

Piñata ponderings

Piñatas are extremely popular party items here. Ellyn has been to a couple of parties lately and has taken her whacks as well as enjoyed the resultant candy cascade. At the most recent party we attended (a wonderful affair, thanks for the invite!), the piñata of choice was the disembodied head of Cookie Monster. That was fine up until the point that it was hung on the gallows rope for its whacking. That was a little creepy looking.

But apart from that I still have some reservations about the whole piñata thing.

First, I have seen enough episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos to know that where there is a piñata, invariably somebody's going to get whacked, and it is usually the adults.

Second, I wonder about the long term personal and cultural consequences of the implicit message that if you beat someone enough times with a stick, candy will come out.

Some snapshots of recent daily life

Just some random bits from life of late.

First, elsewhere I have commented on the cheese situation around here. This was a felicitous find!

Though we don't think we need 2 vehicles full time right now, a friend who is in and out of the country has generously offered to let us use his truck when he's not around. Given that it's a truck and standard (or mecanico as they say around here), only Stephen drives this one.

Here's proof of the mirror replacement.

Bougainvillea blooming in the tree at the end of our cul-de-sac. (The picture doesn't do it justice).

Our doorbell and the delivery of our electric bill.

Denominational Differences

We are an inter-denominational church which means we make an effort to get along and the pastor takes turns offending people in his messages.

But even for us there are limits.

This evening a young boy came to Bible Study dressed in the white uniform of the Real Madrid Futbol Club, something like this:

After study I casually mentioned his attire and commented, "Soy de Barça," indicating my preference for Real Madrid's arch rival, Barcelona. The astonished, wordless, and withering gaze this youngster offered me upon hearing my profession of futbol faith was a sight to behold.

I think I'd get a warmer reception from my Baptist mother if I converted to Hare Krishna.

I guess I'm good either way

As far as cultural icons go one slight difference between Honduras and the US is that this...

...is a far more common sight than this:

For the uninitiated, the former is the crest of the Fútbol Club Barcelona or, more crassly the Barcelona soccer team. One hopes the latter needs no similar explanation.

As it turns out, I happen to be a fan of both clubs so the iconographic eclipse of the one by the other is of no great moment to me.

Looking back...a follow up

Lest you were worried after the last post that we might decide to drive indefinitely without side mirrors, I wanted to let you know that I had them replaced yesterday. We have learned several things in this little experience.
1) People steal things that seem to have little value.
2) Driving without mirrors is annoying.
3) Removing the entire mirror from our car is easy and only involves three small bolts.
4) Replacing the mirrors is cheap.

Now, it has only been about 24 hours so I cannot yet testify to the quality of the craftsmanship, but I left the mirror assembly at a shop yesterday morning and picked them up again around noon. The shop custom cut pieces of mirror and glued them onto the mirror adjustment mount so we can still use the motorized mirror adjustment controls in the car.

The charge? 140 lempiras or about $7.00. For both, not apiece. No kidding. I thought it was ridiculously cheap so I gave the guy $10 and told him to keep the change. He looked at me like I was crazy, but said, "Whatever."

So the downside to living in Honduras? You're likely to get your mirrors stolen.

The upside? It only cost $7 to replace them.

No looking back

Recently I received word from two different graduate school buddies of their experience in the job search. One was just recently hired after years and dozens of rejections. The other is at a very encouraging step in the process with a reputable institution after himself having experienced his share of dismissive replies to applications.

I must admit that mixed with my happiness for them is a tinge of wistfulness, even jealousy. You see, that was the path that I was on, or thought I was at least, until almost a year ago when a different and unexpected calling was revealed. And yet, though we have embraced our life and ministry here, there is still a part of me that hasn't completely bid farewell to those earlier aspirations.

Yet--and especially if anyone from the congregation is reading this--we are not looking back. We have no end date in mind. We do not chafe against this calling. We are trying to call this "home" instead of constantly thinking of the states that way. We have no doubt that God has placed us here for this time and for His purposes. With that confidence, we are not looking back.

Well, that and somebody stole both side mirrors off our car.

A little cultural oddity

Growing up in a church that used the King James Version there were many an archaic phrase that my young mind struggled to understand.

One in particular came to my mind the other day upon observing a cultural oddity here in Honduras. The verse is Psalm 22:7.

All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip...

 That phrase "shoot out the lip" always struck me as odd.

I was thinking about this the other day because Hondurans point with their lips. I'm sure that sounds strange but they do, even in the middle of a sentence. In the case in question, a sales lady at an electronics store indicated a stack of inkjet printers in answer to a customer's question by "shoot(ing) out the lip" while speaking. It's the sort of thing that is kind of hard to imagine until you see it.

No, it doesn't have anything to do with Psalm 22, and no, I don't intend to take up the practice.

Little hope for change

No, this post is not about Obama, rather, a specific follow-up to an observation made in an earlier post.

Today I ate lunch out with a friend. Our bill came to about 200 lempiras or $10.00.

Neither of us had much in the way of small bills so I paid with a 500 lempira note, roughly worth $25.

My change, all 300 lempiras of it, came in 10 and 20 lempira notes (13x20, 4x10).

To put this in perspective, I essentially got $15 worth of change in thirteen $1 bills and four 50¢ pieces.

In the news...

If you see Honduras in the news in the US or Europe it is probably not a good thing. The last week has been particularly traumatic for the country.

First, on Tuesday night a fire claimed the lives of over 300 prisoners at a prison in Comayagua, a city about 60 northwest of Tegucigalpa. It will likely be some time (if ever) before the truth of the matter comes to light.

Then today, another fire broke out in an open-air market in Comayagüela, a sister-city to Tegucigalpa. Several of the ministries represented in the church are located not far from where this fire took place and minister in this area. Currently, reports indicate that there were no fatalities but that upwards of 500 merchants' stalls were destroyed. Many people rely on this market for both their livelihoods and their goods. A photo gallery of this fire can be seen here. The images of thick, black smoke rising over the city are sobering.

To my knowledge, neither of these fires have impacted congregation members directly. I know of one member who has a stall at a market but in a different location. However, many of the ministries in the country will be seeking to offer relief to those in special need at this time.

Pray with us for the peace of Honduras.

Language Barriers

In moving to a foreign country one expects a certain amount of difficulty communicating across the language and cultural barriers. This is true even for those that are semi-competent in the local language.

By and large we have been able to communicate more or less effectively. Stephen's Spanish is adequate and Debbie is learning.

There have been some additional and unexpected language challenges, however.

First, Ellyn's best friend here is the child of deaf parents that work with New Life Deaf Ministry, whose director attends Union. At 7, Carolina already is competent in Spanish, English and Lesho, or Honduran sign language.  (She would like to learn French and Chinese!) Needless to say, our interactions with her parents are limited to the two signs we know: "hello" and "thank you."

Today yet another language challenge faced us. Along with the other household items that belong to the church, the previous pastor and his family left behind a fan which has been sitting at church since their departure. Since the warmer months are coming we thought another fan at home would be a good idea.

HOWEVER.

When we went to turn it on we were confronted with this:







All is not lost. The ones in the picture on the left appear to be (reading from the bottom up: on/off, high, medium, low). That toggle switch, though, has me stumped so far. Fortunately, we do go to an international English-speaking church and I know of at least one Chinese speaker in the congregation.

And, no, it wasn't Taco Loco

Moving to a new country and culture involves a series of "firsts." All those things you don't think twice about in your own country but somehow take on significance when you are somewhere new. For instance, I very soon will have to buy my first pair of shoes in Honduras. I have no idea how this will be similar or different from doing so in the home country but it just seems different. (I'm sure it will be anticlimactic). 

As some of you have doubtless already heard, our most recent first was food poisoning. It was horrible. We know where but not what. And no, it wasn't the recently eulogized Taco Loco. Needless to say, our suffering engendered not a small bit of sympathy on the part of both our Honduran and North American brethren and sisteren. Oddly enough, as it is something fairly universally experienced here, it also forges a strange sort of fellowship with one another.

We have decided, however, that this fellowship will NOT be deepened by replicating the experience!

Thanks for your prayers!

Sight of the day

A lot of cast-off clothing from the US finds its way to Honduras. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that some of those t-shirts printed for the World Series losers end up here.

This means that it is quite common to see people roaming the streets with clothing sporting brand names or English text. The wearer's grasp of English being what it is (or isn't), this can create some humorous pairings.

Like the portly, middle-aged Honduran man I saw at the auto mechanic shop the other day sporting a sweatshirt labeled thus:

Taco Loco

Not far from the church is a fairly nice mall (which I have mentioned in a previous post). We went there for lunch today as they have a fairly extensive food court (far more extensive than what we knew to be in our refrigerator). 

The restaurants on offer are a mix of local names--Tacontento, Paseo Universitario, and the ubiquitous Espresso Americano--and North American imports (or knockoffs)--Quiznos, Subway, Little Caesar's, Wendy's, Popeye's, and Buffalo Wings (no "wild"). 

Our favorite?

Hands down it's Taco Loco. 

I suppose some day we may get a hankering for some "American" fare (and for the sake of their playgrounds D and E do frequent McD's and Wendy's) but so far, given the choices at the mall, it's Taco Loco every time. 

We're loco for...

It only sounds like complaining

I know what you're thinking.

"Okay, Steve. You've been funny and informative and even thought-provoking on the blog so far but honestly, haven't you been a bit too positive? I mean, it can't be all peaches-and-cream, right? C'mon, give us the dirt."

Fine. I'll tell you what I don't appreciate so much about life in Honduras.

• Tile floors. Some of it can be attractive but most of it is just functional. And I know that there are good reasons for having tile floors here rather than carpet, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Thankfully it doesn't get too cold so the whole shocking bare feet on the icy tile thing doesn't happen.
• Motorcyclists. They are a lot like mosquitoes. They are buzzing everywhere, they follow no rules, they frequently make you swat (or swerve) at inconvenient moments, and they don't particularly care. If you hit them they make a bigger mess on the front of your car than mosquitoes, though.
• Taxi drivers. Complete disregard for the flow of traffic and all other motorists. If it is an inconvenient place to stop and especially if stopping there is prohibited, that's where they'll stop.
• Bikini Saturdays. Every day the newspaper stands along the road put up an enlarged version of the front page headlines. A fine way to advertise. However, on Saturdays they replace the front page with bikini-clad women. Viva le weekend I guess. (The adds inside the newspapers here tend to be a bit more risque as well).
• Loud music at restaurants. This is epidemic here. Hard to have a conversation. And when I need to hear and understand Spanish I prefer complete silence. No chance.

As you can see, these are not exactly important aspects of life here. We genuinely enjoy our lives here so far in spite of the changes and challenges.

And I haven't hit one motorcyclist. 

Yet.

Score one for Belgium!

Further investigation into the reliability of blogger's statistics leads me to make the following update to a previous post about the site's traffic. 

You may recall that in an earlier post, a certain relative of mine was chided for her lack of faithfulness to visit the site. It now seems that the data recording hits from Russia likely reflects false hits rather than unknown faithful Russian readers.

Accordingly, I have elected to disregard all data from Russia. This rockets Belgium from fifth place to, um, fourth place behind US, Honduras, and Swaziland.

Further in my sister's defense is the fact that there are far more interesting things to do in Belgium than there are in Swaziland (not to mention that she has three children, all boys) leaving her less time to stop by for her brother's witticisms and, well, criticisms.

Wiki'd Weather

I have the weather for Tegucigalpa on my Google desktop, though I'm not sure why. The sample to the left is representative. Don't be fooled by those different temperature predicted for Friday and Saturday. The guy at Google weather just adjusted by two degrees to convince us he's doing something. I've been told that it will get hotter and drier in March and April and that may be so. But if one takes a close look at the climate averages one discovers a rather monotonous pattern for the weather here in Tegus.
According to the wikipedia article for Tegucigalpa, the average monthly highs and lows for the city vary very little. The lowest monthly average low (57.7 in Jan.) and the highest average monthly low (64.8 in May and June) differ by a whopping 7 degrees. Similarly, the highest average high (86.4 in April and May) and the lowest average high (77.7 in Dec.) differ by fewer than 9 degrees. The yearly averages are nicely symmetrical:

Average High - 82
Daily Mean - 72
Average Low - 62

No point in even having words for the seasons.

If you take another look at that chart though, there is a datum that does show variation: precipitation. The rainiest months (June and September) have over 9 more inches of rain than the driest months (January and February).
The color-coding highlights another pattern, that the rainy season is not an undifferentiated period of wetness. A wet May and June give way to a moderately wet July and August followed by another month of heavier rain in September and October. Kind of reminds me of this:

"Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains." James 5:7

Bugs

Either I have an overactive imagination or I saw one too many missionary slide presentations as a child. Brazil was a popular Baptist missions destination during my youth and having at least one picture of a gigantic insect seemed to be compulsory in these presentations. You know, something like this:

And so, as I thought about moving to Honduras I thought, "Semi-tropical climate equals big/lotsa bugs." I wouldn't say that I was worried about this. No one talked about needing mosquito netting in our bedrooms or anything, but I know it was at the back of my mind.

Now, understand, we live in the capitol city of more than 1 million people. I am sure that the insect situation is different/worse in other parts of the country. There's a region of the country called La Mosquitia for crying out loud (though I believe that was named after a people group, not the insect). But our insect experience has been generally positive. We have our windows open all the time and the screens aren't especially bug-tight. We do get insects in the house but they have not been any worse than during the summer in the states. We have cockroaches at the church but they are pretty harmless (thought Ellyn wasn't too impressed when there was one barring her exit from the bathroom). We have seen one scorpion and several common spiders. Termites are common. We occasionally have large (5-6" across) moths in the church. And we have seen a  lizard or two scurrying around the church and the house.

So, if you were thinking of visiting but were scared off by images of tarantulas and swarms of dengue bearing mosquitoes, I can lay your fears to rest.

(For the linguistically curious: The Spanish word for fly is mosca making the word mosquito a diminutive--little fly. However, mosquitoes are called zancudos. According to Wikipedia, the region of Honduras and Nicaragua called the Mosquito Coast was named for an indigenous group called the Miskito Indians).

What's for dinner?

One of the questions that comes to our minds when we hear of someone living in another culture is: "What do you eat?" Having seen too many episodes of Survivor and Fear Factor we imagine that people in other places all eat weird, even inedible stuff.

In truth, our eating habits haven't changed all that much. We can find most of the things that we need for the recipes we enjoy. Here's a survey of some of the main categories of comestibles and what is available here.

• Vegetables. Most of the vegetables that we use on a regular basis are widely available here: potatoes, carrots (gigantic!), onions (red, yellow, white, and scallion), tomatoes (mostly Roma), garlic, broccoli, cauliflower, peppers (a few varieties), cilantro, asparagus, beans, cucumbers, green beans, corn, avocados, lettuce (so-so), cabbage, and even leeks. There are other options in the vegetable department that we have yet to assimilate: cassava, pataste (called chayote elsewhere), and plantains (we've eaten these in restaurants). In particular the avocados (especially the smooth ones) are very nice.
  
• Fruits. The fruit selection varies more from what we're used to in the states. Bananas, of course, are a staple and believe it or not, far more flavorful than their US counterparts. You can buy them green or yellow. We prefer them in between so we only buy a few at a time. We have also gotten: grapes, apples (red and green), pears, oranges, limes, grapefruit, tangerines, pineapple, and watermelon. The following are either expensive or difficult to find (fresh or frozen): berries in general (except for a generic "mora" of indeterminate origin), peaches, cherries, and cranberries. These absences are offset somewhat by the seasonal availability of mangoes, papaya, guava (2 types), and lychee (though comparing information it seems like what is sold here are actually rambutan).
  
• Beverages. In hot beverages, of course, coffee is king. It's a bit challenging to find decaf. There are teas available but not much selection. Rosa de Jamaica or hibiscus tea is easy to find. It has a sour, cranberry-like flavor.
  In cold beverages other than water and milk, there are packages of fruit juice powder a step or two above Kool-aid that are popular. The top two brands appear to be Zumo and Tang. Horchata, a sweet drink made from rice, is available in many restaurants and from roadside stands.
  Not surprisingly Coca-cola and Pepsi products are available, though Diet Coke is called Coca-cola light here. Other sodas are available (a friend recently rejoiced at the arrival of A&W Root Beer to a grocery store here) but the selection is either limited, short term, and/or expensive. A new brand for us is Link. They have banana soda (which doesn't sound appealing to me) and a really good grapefruit one.
  
• Dairy. Milk is available in whole, semi-descremada (like 2%), and descremada (skim or 0.5%). A local university, Zamorano, has quite an extensive and reputable dairy operation. Yogurt is available. Cheese is another matter. Mozzarella is expensive and the Cheddar is not great. We do like quesillo which is a fresh cheese somewhat reminiscent of cheese curd (it squeaks!). Our other cheese favorite is the unremarkably named queso amarillo or "yellow cheese." It reminds me of Edam. Crema is a local product that has the consistency somewhere between yogurt and sour cream. It has a milder flavor than sour cream. It is often put on beans. Eggs are common, though they seem to have a stronger (not necessarily bad) flavor.
  
• Meat. Meat has been more of a challenge. Most of what we buy we get from PriceSmart the local Sam's Club subsidiary. Though we like our grocery store a lot, the meat section just doesn't speak to us. Or rather, it speaks to us but what it says is not encouraging. Consequently, we eat mostly chicken (purchased in packages similar to those we are familiar with) and ground beef (available in a Sam's club sized tube). 

So, in general, our eating habits haven't changed dramatically. We probably eat more beans, rice, and tortillas than we used to do (or at least Stephen does). If anything, our culinary experience has been an improvement. We love the local foods that are available reasonably priced at local restaurants and can eat as we're used to at home. It's a win-win!*

*Well, except that there's no Chipotle here!

Just in case you were worried...

It has not required expert stylistic analysis for many to figure out that I, Stephen, have been the primary (by which I mean only) author of blog posts here at The Communion of the Saints. For those of you who might wonder why Debbie has yet to register her voice, I can assure you that it is NOT because:

1. I won't let her near the computer,
2. She is so overwhelmed by life and culture shock that she can't bring herself to post,
3. She has been so barraged by Spanish that she has forgotten how to speak or write in English,
4. She hates Honduras so much she can't think of anything good to say,
5. She's been thrown in jail for some undisclosed infraction,
6. She has secretly moved back to the US,
7. She's so busy scrubbing clothes on the washboard, hand making tortillas, plucking and gutting the chickens, feeding and cleaning up after the goats, and patching the thatched roof on our hut that she doesn't have time to write.

For the truth of the matter, I guess you'll just have to ask her.

Same name, different face

As long-time residents of Racine, Wisconsin, home of S.C. Johnson company, we have developed a preference for their products. After all, can you really beat Windex for cleaning windows?

We were pleasantly surprised to find Windex when we arrived here, but don't remember this cleverly (or cheesily, depending on your perspective) named fellow featuring on the bottles in the states.

Out with a bang

The principal method for celebrating the New Year here is fireworks. I don't know what, if any, restrictions there may be on them but it doesn't seem to be too many. There was quite a raucous fusillade outside our home last night around 11:30 accompanied by children screaming and running up and down the road in front of the house. At midnight one could hear a nearly incessant sequence of explosions near and far for about 10 solid minutes. Needless to say, sleep was elusive. So the year went out and came in with a bang.

Amazingly, Ellyn slept through the whole ruckus.