Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Two Months in Honduras

Hello from Honduras! These past two months I have been working in the Northern region of this country constructing foot bridges with two small villages. Yes, I am still a Peace Corps Volunteer in Panama, and will be returning to my home in Laguna before the end of the month.
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Pondering the site of a new bridge in Honduras.
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There is a river near my village in Panama with an old, dilapidated bridge across it in need of replacement. Around Thanksgiving of last year a wonderful opportunity fell in my lap to come to Honduras for two months and work with a nonprofit from the States, Bridges to Prosperity (http://www.bridgestoprosperity.org/). The idea being that they would teach me to design and construct suspended footbridges with the hope of returning to Panama to replace the bridge in my community. However, before any construction begins in Panama I have various hurdles to jump over with respect to timing, manpower, availability of materials, and financing. I am excited to work on such a unique and important project for the indigenous reservation where I live.
The streets of Copan, Honduras at night.
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My time here in Honduras has been similar in nature to Panama, with subtle and pleasant changes. Much like Panama 90% (if not more) of my working hours are spent moving heavy objects. With the absence of heavy machinery and the rough terrain across which material (rocks, sand, cement, wood, etc.) has to be moved, my existence is often minimized to match that of a pack animal. The other 10% is where I feel as though I have something unique to offer, helping with the conceptual work. For example, with this bridge, the decision for what size cable to use, how tense it must be pulled, and how to secure it so that even those loaded down pack animals can cross safely. Often I feel out of place explaining to people twice my age how we're going to build something but feel an incredible sense of accomplishment knowing I contributed in a meaningful way.

A cathedral in Tegulcigalpa, Honduras.

The subtle changes have come in the form of electricity, food, and the language. Although I've enjoyed the light bulb and electrical outlet in the room I've rented here in Honduras (for a dollar a day) I'm ready to go back to my cabin in the woods complete with candles and flashlights in Panama. While I've enjoyed the break from rice and beans in Panama, I've eaten enough corn tortillas, salty white cheese, and refried beans here to satisfy all future cravings. And just at a point when I felt confident in my Spanish I up and moved to a place where they have different names for everyday vocabulary, use some verbs conversely to what I am accustomed, and have a harmonic up and down tone in their sentences like they're singing with every phrase. Time to go home to Panama.

View from the top of Isla del Tigre, Honduras.
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With all the time I've spent carrying sand and cement I've found myself thinking a lot about motivation and the sharp turns in my life that have lead me to this narrow creek bed in Honduras. I can think of half a dozen big decisions I've made in just as many years (from entering and then leaving a military academy to passing up competitive job offers to live in a grass hut in Panama) that have shaped so much of who I am. Throughout those years I've had my supporters and those who've told me I'm crazy, that I'm making the wrong decision. As much as I think about what my life would be like if I stayed on the paved road, I'm proud of not just the decisions I've made but the reasons I've made them.

The sun setting off Isla del Tigre.

There was one morning in particular here when our job was to move about 2000 pounds of cement and 8000 pounds of sand from the road to the job site 10 minutes away. About two hours in I realized something. I thought I had been setting the pace for the morning but had been matched step for step, pound for pound, by a young man in his late teens. Here I sat, leaning on a pile of cement bags that still had to be moved, sweat dripping off my face, staring at my Honduran reflection who was waiting for me to start up again so he could too. He opened his mouth for the first time all morning:

"I want to be an engineer too."

More sunsets.

I thought for a minute as I stared into his eyes. How hard would it be to become motivated if all you knew was your cramped house, empty stomach, and exhausting days spent in the fields? When I finish here I get on a plane and fly away to something new. These people go back to picking corn. Is it fair to hold it against thm for not making more of their potential when they don't know anything outside this very frame of reference? Here was a boy who saw something different and wanted to do it too. I didn't know what to say.

"Never ever give up." Is all that came out as we both picked up another bag of cement and marched on.

Mayan ruins at Copan, Honduras.

Along with constructing bridges I've had a chance to get out and travel a bit, as you can see from the pictures. From beautiful mountains in Guatemala, to pristine beaches in El Salvador, to ancient Mayan ruins in Honduras, I met plenty of travelers along the way. In fact I met tons. I can't believe how many Americas, Europeans, and Australians are bumming around the Central America with a few thousand dollars just seeing where the wind will take them.

More ruins.

One of the first questions asked when getting to know other travelers is "How long have you been traveling?" That's always a tough question for me. What should I say, "a year and a half"? That's how long I've been gone, but I consider myself a Peace Corps Volunteer, not a traveler. I'm usually just on a weekend trip.

Macaws in Honduras.
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Lately, I've just been responding simply with "a while". At the same time, who am I to kid? As I ponder the question everything about me screams traveler. I carry two valid US passports. I hide money in half a dozen places on my body and in my bags. I no longer consider a bus full until there are at least 15 people on with their center of gravity over asphalt and at least three species of animals on board (one of which must be a live chicken hung upside down with its legs tied together). I come out of the woodwork after a few weeks and struggle getting my mind and mouth to use just English. And I can think of at least half a dozen times in the last six months where I've laid down on the ground and gone to sleep either because that was the accommodation available for the evening or because of some lack of foresight on my part. I guess I am, in a way, just another traveler looking for his next great adventure.

Packing corn back to the house, Honduras.

That quickly reminds me of a bus ride I took in El Salvador a few weeks back. I was sitting behind the bus driver when he turned to me and said in English, "Where are you from?" It turned out he spent several two year periods in California doing construction. When I asked him how he got to the States he held back no details as he described the long bus rides across Mexico, the resting near the border, and the hot days hiding and long nights walking as he snuck into the States and was preparing to do so again. At first I was angry at him but quickly lightened up as I realized I would likely do the same think if in his shoes. It certainly doesn't make it okay for him to do, but in my opinion my frustration should be directed at the US government and not at the bus driver. Which got me thinking. When all this "traveling" is over it would be interesting to "sneak" back into the US via the Mexico border. If I get caught I just show my passport and fill out a customs form, right? It would make a good book I bet. I'll have to consider it.

Until next time,

Pequeño

Midday snack: sugar cane.


The Pacific Ocean.


Preparing onions for a market in San Pedro, Guatemala.


Indigenous dress, Guatemala.


Off to the market to sell her bread, Guatemala.


The shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.


Same lake.

Construction on the towers begin for our bridge.


The women carried stones on their head from the riverbank.

The new tower goes up behind the old one.

The towers are complete!

Time to set the cables.

I break with a local boy.

On goes the walkway.


More walkway.

Six weeks of labor, and it's finished!


All in all it's just over 30 meters long, about 20 meters shorter than the one I will try to build in Panama.

Soccer on the beach in El Salvador.


Fishing time in Playa Cuco, El Salvador.

The sunset on the same beach.

A dugout canoe in Bahia Azul, Panama.

A freshly hatched turtle in Panama.

There were 80 born in this group.

And they're off!


First one to the ocean wins.


An ocelot in captivity, Panama.

My buddy, Jacob, feeding spider monkeys.

A white faced monkey, Panama.


He goes for the bananas.

Feeding the monkeys.

Tree jumping.

The beach, Mono Feliz, Panama.


Spider monkeys.

More monkeys.

Monkey...monkey...monkey.

There were lots of monkeys.

The beach, Playa Zancudo, Costa Rica.