The Bus, The Greenhouse, and The Doldrums

I wasn’t convinced we were going to leave Yorito on Monday until we boarded the bus, and even then I wasn’t sure we were going to make it all the way back to San Isidro. To travel back we needed to catch two converted school buses. Take the first bus at 9 am from Yorito heading towards Tegucigalpa. Get off before Tegucigalpa (that’s where tens of thousands of protestors are causing ruckus) and catch a second bus that’s returning from Tegucigalpa to San Isidro at 1 pm. What appears to be a flawless plan was only disrupted when we arrived at the second bus stop at 1:40 pm. The intervening 40 minutes kept me busy with seven phone calls and a lot of frantic pleading. Thankfully enough, it worked.

The bus driver and almost one hundred bored Hondurans were sitting under whatever shade they could find around the barren bus stop when we finally made it. I tried to make obvious both my embarrassment and gratitude to the waiting bus riders but I think the subtleties of my facial expression were lost as the crowd of bored Hondurans stormed the second bus. My curiosity about this swift shift from shade mongering to bus stampeding was satisfied when we entered the bus to discover that all the seats were taken and that the only option was for us to sit on plastic stools in the middle of the aisle. The 3 hour ride from where we boarded the second bus to San Isidro wasn't comfortable but how can you complain when that many people are waiting on you for more than half an hour?

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Since returning to San Isidro, I've tried adjusting back to life as it normally is—meaning I rarely know what's going to happen the next day. I was pleased on Wednesday when we had the opportunity to help construct a greenhouse behind the school at Las Quebraditas. Construction in the mountains of rural Honduras is much different than construction in my backyard in rural Luray, Virginia. After surveying the land with rope and a tape measure, we dig. A lot. The holes are dug with a tool named a “barreta”— a sturdy stick with a flat piece of metal attached to one end. Wooden posts are placed in the holes and the dull end of the “barreta” is used to pack down the soil around the post. After we got all the posts in the ground we realized we didn’t have enough plastic to cover the greenhouse. I’m told we can finish next week. Here’s a picture of what we managed to accomplish with 15 people in 4 hours. If next week goes as planned I’ll include a shot of the final product.

Despite how much I enjoyed building the greenhouse the majority of my week was spent stuck in the doldrums. After returning from Yorito I didn’t feel like I was going to be able to readjust to the San Isidro lifestyle and be happy again. I seriously considered requesting a transfer to another region for my last two weeks in Honduras. I talked, though, with Rebecca, Sarah, my mom, and Diana (a group leader stationed in Yorito) and decided to face my doldrums head on instead of trying to escape my poor attitude. After 3 exhausting days of dreaming of a transfer, I decided to take ownership of my experience and can report that mission is accomplished. Today, I took an active role in teaching in El Encinal and accompanied a FIPAH staff member to observe the first of her personal finance lessons for a group of farmers in La Vereda. This picture from the El Encinal classroom captures my new-found upbeat attitude.

As usual, shout-outs before I call it a night. Tonight’s shout-outs are a recycled pair but the occasion merits it. By the time my mom reads this post on Saturday it will be her birthday. Congratulations Mom! I’m sorry I can’t be there for your birthday but we can go to the Wrangler’s game when I get back to make up for it. This Sunday is my parent’s 23^rd anniversary. Thanks to both of you for supporting be all throughout the trip. I know it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t know I was coming back home to you two at the end of it. If you thought the first 23 years were great, strap on your seatbelts for the next 23.