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.
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."
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.
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.
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
Off to the market to sell her bread, Guatemala.
The shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.
The women carried stones on their head from the riverbank.
The new tower goes up behind the old one.
The towers are complete!
I break with a local boy.
More walkway.
All in all it's just over 30 meters long, about 20 meters shorter than the one I will try to build in Panama.
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.
An ocelot in captivity, Panama.
My buddy, Jacob, feeding spider monkeys.
He goes for the bananas.
Feeding the monkeys.
Tree jumping.
Spider monkeys.
More monkeys.
Monkey...monkey...monkey.
The beach, Playa Zancudo, Costa Rica.