rationing reality

Living here in Honduras I have ahd a special view point for much of what is going on both locally and internationally. Even before I got here, living in Chile helped to open my eyes to how the international table is filling out.

The longer I stay here the greater it seems the dangers seem to be building. The Mid-East is dividing itself up, between Israel and the US, and Iran. Russia and is siding with Iran, while, the US attempts to maintain its positions of power in Iraq and Afganistan (which just happen to border Iran). Just north of there Gerogia, and other small former Soviet republics are trying to distance themselves from Russia, where the Russians are building up their military force, to apparently quell the resistence that they are facing there.

In South East Asia things remain vague, for me at least, but I'm starting to get the picture of how North Korea and Iran are using the Muslim Background to create a more united dissident front, like in the Phillipines. Japan will remain allied with the United States, as will South Korea and Taiwan, but what China does will finish off the table. With China joining Russia the table makes for a very difficult time if war should break out. With China joining the States, the Asian Theatre will remain noticeably calmer.

As for the Americas I feel much more confident in my understandings. Mexico is and will be with the US, but the main problem, just like in other parts is the heavily armed and organized drug cartels. In the South of Mexico there are 30,000 troops on the border of the State of Chiapas. They have not gone in and will not go in until they need to. Chiapas does not provide a threat the the peace, but they do provide a link. Beyond Mexico is Central America, where the countries are dividing up. Costa Rica and Panama, with large interests from the United States would side with them, while Nicaragua, Honduras, and others would be much more open to siding with Iran, and in the American Theatre Brazil and Venezuela.

That brings me to Venezuela. Where they have been increasing their military power, as well as rhetoric over the past few years. Chavez has taken a stronger and stronger hold of power as well as a much closer relationship with Iran. Furthermore, it seems that Brazilian President Lulu, has been sticking his fingers into every facet of international politics as he now hosts the Deposed President Zelaya from Honduras at the Brazilian Embassy, and is taking stands in Israel's actions, as well as backing Iran. This tightening relationship between Brazil and Iran is just as, if not more important than Venezuela's. Brazil represents a much greater country with much greater interests and powers.

With Venezuela and Brazil united, and the left of Bolivia, Ecuador, Paraguay, and Uruguay coming into greater power you can see how these peices might start to come together. Peru also represents another country that would join into the Bolivarian Pact. However, Chile, Argentina, and Columbia would side with the United States, making for something of an interesting break up of the Americas. With so much Jungle the landscape is ripe for Guerrilla style warfare that no established army has ever been able to combat well.

This brings me to the greatest point that I have. The difference in warfare now. Before it was armies fighting armies. Civilians as casualties. But now, a changing of the guard is taking place. War is taking a more guerrilla style turn, with individuals acting in order to take out greater numbers. Its a war of fear, but of personal fear, not based on National Ideals, but based on the fear that each individual has for their own life. Also, if the Drug Cartels and Gangs which are rampant throughout Mexico, Venezuela, Columbia, and Brazil can unite, this brings a whole nother factor to how sucha war would take place. Just imagine, the Gangs of Brazil united with the States, while the Drug Cartels of Columbia and Mexico uniting with Venezuela. This could make for an entirely new playing field.

Strategically when you look at the Americas the point of contention is and always will be Central America. That is the door. And no matter which way you slice it, any global conflict will have a great focus on Panama and its canal.

As for Africa, I have no idea, but I think it would be a mix of forgotten land and resources like in Nigeria. I see the middle east, the islands of the South Pacific, the Korean Peninsula, and Central/South America as the greatest areas of potential conflict if this buildup of arms and tensions continue. Hah, let alone India, India makes for a great link between the mid-east and asia, their involvement with China's will determine the scale of what occurs.

the road already traveled

comparison time:

Zelaya is to come back through Nicaragua...I was just there and came back through a very similar journey.

First, he's coming from Managua (the capital), thats where my bus dropped me off. I shared a cab with some quebequios and got dropped off at a random bus station. ZERO busses to honduras. But, one bus to ocotal, about 15 miles past esteli.
Zelaya has a jeep. Which he gets to drive. I am jealous.
Of course, he spends the night in esteli, a more touristy and nice town with a hotel that might be 2.5 stars. He's accompanied by the venezuelan foreign minister, press, his wife and daughters.
I got off the bus and walked the wrong way down the street. Asked some people where the closest hotel was and they asked me if i saw the one that was literally about 15 feet from where i got off the bus. I ended being accompanied by a random korean guy with ridiculously long hair who had been traveling around for about a year or two in central america, and the weird brothers who ran the hotel. As for my wife and daughters? I had a bottle of the finest nicaraguan rum, flor de caña, lite...yikes. It was the cheapest bottle...and the only bottle ironically enough, that i could find.
Zelaya is gonna pass through the town of Las Manos...or "The Hands." When I went there i got lectured by some guy about how i was just traveling and that the central americans were smart for putting their immigration offices together. he told me he hoped that i had my 7 dollars ready to pay to enter into honduras again. that is until i showed him my fancy little card that says i live in honduras, and told him that i was smarter than the central americans because i didnt have to pay. i did, however, have to lose 5% of my cash when changing from nica$ to hondu$, but that was expected.
on a side note, i didnt have to pay when i changed my money from hondu$ to nica$ because i was rollin with the ingeniero who had passed through this checkpoint twice a month for the past 20 some'odd years
the ousted president will likely have a much different experience in The Hands. Most likely he won't be too preoccupied about changing his money and finding his next ride to Danli, as i'm pretty sure the guy hassling him may have a bunch of guys behind him with big scary guns.
or
he could find friends there who give him a salute and welcome him back with the protection of said guys with big scary guns.
whatever he does, he's a friggin copycat, and i dont appreciate it...that is unless i get some royalties when he gets his book and movie deals!

every event has its beginning, every event has its end

in the middle theres a wash of mud and dirt, blood and sweat--tears line the streets and you know at some point that the shouts you hear will be replaced by gunfire.
its not something that i want. i cannot imagine what it is like to live in the midst of war. what will these children do? when the embassy evacuates people i can leave, but what happens to these 500 children? do they just sit here waiting for the war to be over? do they leave and join the fight? its a ridiculocity that is completely inconceivable. have you ever thought about it? what would you do if you were in charge of 500 children and a civil war broke out? do you risk taking them to another country? do you cross the border legally? what do you do with the staff? they can make their own decisions, but when you're 3 hours from the border, and have to drive 6 big yellow buses along the highways filled with hundreds of orphans...what do you do?
i'm not saying this is definitely going to take place. but the talks are breaking down. the interim gov't sits there rejecting the offers and then the ousted president rescinds his own desire for a peaceful end. they say the talks are done. they say that the talks will continue in 3 days. they say they say.
but each side wants the same thing: power
you cannot get anywhere unless they both accept to remove themselves from such a position. which they won't.
the talks are set to resume in a few days. but unless the two sides accept their differences, nothing will happen.
and its when nothing happens that you have to be at your most alert.
i would be lying if i said i wasn't scared. i am. but i'm also enthralled. its life--in its most demanding and brutal way. life, at the hands of another. life in the palm of your hands, the look of a diplomatic eye, the tension of a finger building on a trigger.
life can end. and it just might. pretty soon. another protester death and this thing could ignite. its not quite iran, but i think people have a lot more audacity here, the two sides are more than just an army against a people. everyone in this country is armed. plus nicaragua sits to the south, and venezuela may come to aid zelaya as well.
in iran there are tensions, and people are dying, but no one seems to be taking a more rash and physical step from the opposition side.
here in honduras, the education level is much lower. the idea about talking can only get so far before a fight breaks out.
the students have been leading the pro-zelaya protests so far; but zelaya is looking to come back, and when he does, the peaceful students are going to learn a valuable lesson that hasnt been taught since the end of the cold war in central america.
the clock is counting. and i dont know what its gonna look like on saturday. i guess we will have to wait for satuday to come to know what it holds in store for us.
i do have this to say though. before everything gets out of hand.
hondurans are a ridiculous sort. they are some of the kindest and thoughtful people at times. at others, just looking out for their own best interests.
but the most telling sign, and the one that will ultimately determine how this all plays out is the hondurans ability to talk. they can bicker on the color of a t-shirt for hours, just to decide on the same color they use every year. this unbelievable ability to talk and talk and talk may be the best hope for honduras to find peace, or it may be the wind to blow over this house of peaceful (and tense) cards.

so you would think that a military coup would be a good blog.
definitely timely...err, not.
it happened a few weeks ago, and we're still trying to sort out the mess.
the other day i figured out what it is...
"its like you just broke up with your girlfriend. but you didnt really break up with her, so neither of you two know if you're still together or broken up. but you start hanging out with a new girl, only you're not dating her yet."
yeah, thats pretty much the situation here. its messy and ugly, but the suns comin up and there will be a day of pizza and photos, maybe even a pirated movie or two...depends on how the money holds up.

ode to mono, you're smile was a tremendous light in the world

Each time i take a sip from my coffee mug, with the coffee the same temperature as the air around me, I put the mug back down on the table. And when it finds its spot I accidentally hit the small porcelin dragon sitting on the table and the most beautiful almost inaudible clink emanates and winds its way to my ears. Its a sound precious, like the smile from Mono. He was such a wonderufl kid. He had no control over his movements, his whole body constantly in motion. "a body in motion stays in motion" thats the first rule right? well let me tell you nothing came into contact with Mono, because he never stopped!
not at least until he was eating a few days ago. some food came into contact with him, and as he swallowed it strayed from his asophogas to his lung.
mariano, one of my boys from hogar told me. we were hoeing the weeds away at the farm on monday morning. the sun was breaking through the clouds and the heat was there to stay. the weeds were thick, but not overgrown...at least until we got to the final rows to hoe. there the weeds were thick, dense and wild. burdeoned with the desire for more, for light, for anything as they were left in the waste, to grow without supervision, to fall into a certain choir of chaos, a beautiful song of life, living without a grownup...like the kids here.
there are always adults around, but the adults really dont have as much control as you would think. they run wild, and act as if no one has ever told them "no."
as my hoe dug into the thicket, mariano, from the other end of the line we were working on, called out
"one of the kids from casa angeles died"
what¿? what do you mean?
"one of them died"
when? how? who??
"i dont really know when or how. bryan was his name"

Mono thats all i knew him as. Mono. Put his name in the past tense and wrap that shit up. call it a spring roll because he was sprouting life like the spring.
that was monday. and it seems like a lifetime ago. and it is. its Mono's lifetime ago.
on monday evening i went in search of a hug. i found jenna and jose, and left in a huff. i went looking again and found jenna with dori this time. "i really really really need a raincoat" thats the song right now. it rained. i needed one. but the real rain coat i needed was a hug. jenna tried to give me a half haarted hug, and it hurt more than not having any at all. i would rather have eggs thrown at me than get a halfhearted hug when i need a real one the most.
tuesday is closer to this year, but still an entire childhood away. its been so long, so much energy, so many emotions, so much, so much.
we had the funeral mass...which wasn't a mass because we didnt have a father, so it was a funeral celebration...kinda weird, but whatever. then we went to the cemetary. before i had asked stefan (the head of the ranch) if he wanted photos, he said no. i was releived. i hate taking photos in moments like this. i mean, interesting...yes. worth the angry looks people give you? no. well, the tias from casa angeles got there and immediately asked me to take some photos. i about ran around hysterically, but kept things to myself. jenna found me and said she could give me a hug now. i gave her a half-hug as i was still unhappy with her. i'm still undecided, but think that a simple thing like a hug shouldnt sour an entire friendship...i just feel very hurt by it all.
we went to the cemetary and buried Mono. it hurt. the sun beat down and my jeans filled with sweat. the grave wasn't big enough when we got there so they had to dig more. one of my boys from hogar was a douche. he kept talking during the burial. i tried to get him to be quiet but he wouldnt listen to me. we're to have a talk about being respectful. but he's scared of me. so the talk is still waiting to take place. its like procrastination, but in a beligerent way. he knows exactly what we're going to talk about and doesnt want to do it because he refuses to admit that he did any wrong.
tuesday evening was even more fun. as i got dirt thrown in my face, and boiled over into a thundergod of the volcanic islands in the pacific. you can call me hekili makua.
i raged and spewed fire. terrible quakes ran out from my feet and lightning shot from my eyes. i embodied the thunderstorm and it embodied me.
i went back later and apologized for my transformation to mr. hyde, and asked for their forgiveness. the girls accepted.
me fuckin alegre. i've now gotten myself into and out of 2 pickles for the day, taken photos of dead peoples celebrations, and thrown tantrums for the greeks to write about.
wednesday...hoot. where did that one come from. i had work to do. left over from the two days before. i went down to the pond to take some photos and pushed jesse into the pool. she was not too happy...in fact i'm still trying to figure out how much she hates me now. ahh well. i didnt get all the photos i needed, but i did have an interesting time. right after she fell into the water, i looked into her eyes. rage burned in them at that moment, like the sun had been captured in her sight and shot right back at me. i gave my camera to a tia immediately and accepted all the water that was to come, as all the kids came to her defense and soaked me quite thoroughly. i laughed and smiled and ran around.
thursday i found myself working with my boys at the farm again. am still sore from all the hoein we did.
and today? hah. what a beautiful day. after nights and nights of rain, with no power, and nothing to do. they rains have idled for a little bit, it only drizzled this evening. i still havent talked with cristian, but not for lack of trying.
i tried to leave my house 3 times today. the last, i had left, and picked the skin off a blister from the previous days work, so decided to return and put some cologne on it before i went to work. when i came out of my room, still in a little pain...but smelling very nice, cate was there with the water bottle men. she informed me that she just saw the ingeniero, and i went corriendo to find him.
since the ingeniero was my likely ride to nicaragua, i needed to talk to him quickly. i found him and he said that he would give me a ride to the nph house in nicaragua. i ran back to my house happy as an orange leaf in fall, got my camera, and said "thats it, i've got to finish this list today!"
i finished it for the most part, i'm still missing a few, but not very many at all. now i've just got the thank you letters and a child story to write before monday evening.
this has been one of the longest weeks of my life. today when i saw stefan, i noticed how his hair is starting to gray. if i were him i would keep it really short too. he's too young to be graying, but he is, and most of its the stress from this job he's got. trying to make sure that not too many of the 600 kids die at any given time...hah. what a ridiculocity. can you even imagine:
Job Opening
position: national director large home for orphans
description: find kind ways to punish kids, and make sure that not too many of them die under your watch. please, no more than 1 every 3 months
pay: hah, you wish
hours: comparable to your pay, only opposite. if you think you can get drunk at night, think again because you have to go take a kid to the hospital cuz he just got his head smashed in by a brick on the street by an ex-pequeño from the same organization this kid is a part of still
experience: mma background prefered, but will accept accertive germans as long as you can handle assholes from boston

yup, sounds pretty fun, right??

how'll you take your eggs sugah?¿

4 am.
the alarm sounds, i get up, get dressed

4:20 am.
raw egg with some salt, banana, brush my teeth

4:27 am.
-en route to truck
while walking down the path i kick something soft but weighty. i turn on my flashlight, there on the side of the path is a big frog. since i already ate i'm not in the mood for frog legs

4:30 am.
go to the truck, wake up the kids to head out

5:15 am.
arrive at the field. divvy out machetes to the kids, the boss, myself. head into the the sugar cane

8 am...ish
take a short break, water, sandwiches. head back to the cane.

8:30 am.
the truck arrives. we load all the cane we've chopped for the past few hours onto the truck. no easy feat, including a wobbly ladder and little tiny spiny deals poking into your skin and clothes.

9:30 am.
the truck leaves. resumption of cutting. by now i'm switching between my left and right hands, the blisters have broken but the nice thing about calouses is that there isn't as much blood. thick skin, a learned and excellent commodity.

12:30 pm.
another break. watermelon this time. "you think we have more than the last truck?" yeah, we have way more say the boys. "well, lets take a break until the truck gets he-" just then the truck's horn sounds OUNN OUNN
long break. back to loading the cane. more of the wobbly ladder. the sun's higher in the sky, there's no more clouds to hide from the deafening rays.

1:30 pm.
with the truck loaded, the cane tied, and the giant spare tire lifted on top we head back to the bosses truck. pile inside and out back and head back to the ranch.

2:00 pm.
stop at a restaurant. the boss treats us to fried chicken lunch, very nice.

2:45 pm.
arrive at the ranch, having dropped off all the pequeños at their various places, walk to my house, get a shower and a shave. apply cologne to my hands, nice and torn up, now they sting, but smell really nice.

3:15 pm.
go to the church, just a few minutes late for mass.

5:30 pm.
head to the school where the boys are staying the night because of fumagation.

6 pm.
check my voicemail. scott's broken up with rotem.

7 pm.
dinner gets served: eggs, platano, avacado.

8 pm.
talk to the night watchmen, talk to gabriel, find out one of the kids has taken a retreat for the evening. i offer my services to look for him, but gabriel sends me back to the video and the rest of our boys.

8:30 pm.
i remember scott's phone number and we talk till my money runs out on my phone.

9:15 pm.
scott calls me back, we talk and share stories for a while. it was good for both of us. he's gonna be just fine, it just takes time, and that's always the hardest part.

10:20 pm.
i return to my house, put my sheets on my bed, lay down and fall asleep.

sunday
8:20 am.
i wake up. go to the kitchen, dori and emily are starting to bake cakes. i cut up some potatoes and make myself homefries, sunny-side down eggs, and a cup of coffee. "wow, you went all out for breakfast" emily and dori say. sometimes, you just need to have a good breakfast

is that a mushroom? "no, those don't exist in this country, that's a chicken heart"

i'm tired. its been a long day, and only get more tomorrow. i want to go to sleep, but we had sopa de menuda (chicken parts soup) for dinner and i'm hungry, only i'm not the only one, as all the volunteers are hungary, because none of them actually eat it. each time we have it i eat a little bit more. tonight i fabian gave me lots of "stones," some might even call them organs. since the boys at my table didnt receive nearly as much as i did, and since i still dont like eating it so much i gave a stone to each boy at the table...leaving myself with a reasonable helping of livers and lungtype things. i ate everything left on my plate and washed it down with the tortillas that i had, a nice bland dry sort of corn, boiled, pounded, smashed, cranked, and cooked. it makes the soft meatlike stones almost palletable if you swallow quickly enough, but you just cannot avoid the smell. its so much to eating and you can never run away from something bad smelling...like a fart at a nice restaurant, how can you really take that next bite until the fans or wind whisks the uncanny beannieness away?
there's work to be done, but it can wait until tomorrow...possibly even for the evening, that would be perfect, to work, play, work, eat, work, sleep.
hmm
another volunteer the other day told me "i cry, i feel like i'm the only one here who does that, but then i found out that we all hate our jobs"
you might, but i most certainly really like my job. there's so much that i'm learning and developing, its a job perfect for who i am and what i've studied and wish to do
"well you've got the easiest job here"
for your information i spent the afternoon getting hit by tiny children, having them throw dirt, grass, and stones at me, while they called me ugly. i laughed it off because (thanks to brianna, the newjersian) that's really the only thing you can do. it is. the more mad you get, the more they do it. the more you laugh, the more they do it too, but at least you're laughing...right? in the end my boss told me he didnt have the patience to take the photo today, and i concurred. we made a raincheck for wed. we'll see how that turns out.
as for the volunteer, she and her friend passed me, as i limped back to our house tonight, on the sidewalk, almost knocking me off the sidewalk and taking a few more steps before thinking to pause in her conversation say "excuse me." then she tried to close the gate to the house on me as i waited furiously behind them, and then asked if i wanted to come in. no "hello, how are you" "sorry i almost ran you over, its rush hour here in the middle of nowhere and i've got to get where i'm going before those cops figure out i'm walking without insurance on this jam-packed, all of 3 people, sidewalk" nothing. nothing but a second hand omission, an afterthought with the citybrisqueness and inhospitability of northern cold arrogance. maybe i'm being a little too harsh, but i have to take on a different personality when i go to teguc, or any city for that matter, and i refuse to wear that suit in the country where people should live like they are in the country, not the cold blustery streets of chicago.
like i said, i'm tired. they've finished cooking and eating, and i can enjoy some peacefullness, even though calgary lost to chicago. don't worry, tomorrows another day with another photo.

Distance

This is how Facebook is supposed to work. As I'm talking with the crazy Longislandian, trying to get our flight information straightened out and get to Las Islas Bahia, my Aunt, Uncle, and two of my other best friends get online and start talking to me. As far as I might be from everyone right now, this is such a special feeling, to be able to share a couple of words, a smile, and soon a hug and lots of rum all in the blink of an eye. Its a great feeling and something that I could never have appreciated had I stayed within driver's range of these people. (and yes, I do understand that these people are all spread out, but being in the states is so much closer than here right now)
Its a statement about homesickness, yes. But more importantly, its a statement about love, that I have the opportunity to connect with these people and maintain the relationships that we've spent so many years building, and not let a moment (no matter how long, short or spread apart) throw away the beauty that we've created.

So, here's the deal...
I ain't nothin fancy, but I am somethin worth while, and when I ain't worth while, I hope I'm the least bit entertaining.
If you ever left and found yourself all alone, then the sun set and you were living on some saucery planet with red rings and orange dust rubbing against the sky, then you've been where I've been.
If not, well, take a step and find what you've never been lookin for.
Lemme catch you up a moment real quick...
I've been round a bit, not as much as some people but enough to know the difference of if you're spittin at me or just spittin.
Chile is a wonderfully alcoholic country, some of the best drinkers and partiers you're ever going to find. They know how to go and go and go...as long as you dont try and give them a rum&coke and keep it to the piscolas all night long. As for the rest of life there...need not apply, really. They need an injection of Italian clothing style stat, they need a haircut stat, they need another injection of Italian food...stat.
Seriously, as much as Chileans love to drink, they love mayonaisse even more. There's more of the white boring condiment than there are aisles at the grocery store.
By the way, I just had a Stevelike game of spades: I couldn't go nil, and I couldn't bid higher than 2 for the first 4 hands...ridiculous, completely ridiculous.
Speaking of ridiculousness, and not to sound complaining, but jeez, Bostonians...yes, Massholes are horrendous people. I don't think I like any Bostonian. There are a few who currently live in Boston that I'm friends with, but for the most part their culture is the most FEA cultura I've ever witnessed and would be happy to never see or talk to someone from or be in that city ever again. I think we should give Boston to Canada and let them and the Quebecios make their own little country.
At any rate, I am growing to like New Yorkers more and more, even though they are completely mental at times and have no concept of expenses. Brianna (technically from Jersey, but its all yankee to me), my roomate from Chile is a wicked cool lady, if not completely there in her head...but it's ok cuz she's blonde.
Colleen on the other hand is from long island and has no concept of money. How can you spend 700 dollars on a trip to the beach in honduras?? I just don't know, better be fucking awesome.
As I was in Chile I thought I should learn the local tongue. I met a girl and a woman there and they are totally interesting people. Had a great time with both of them and learned so much about myself and how to make relationships...
Although apparently not good enough lessons on the relationships as I've left them both now and hardly talk to them...sounds familiar doesn't it.
I spent christmas with the girl, her family and the countryside. Christmas down there is totally different than in the states...as summer is just beginning and its starting to warm up everywhere. Never will I forget the chocolate sanded beach, Cola de Mono, and Alicia's heart-shaped lips.
As much as christmas was a family affair, another affair took place over new years. A lonely time for me as I learned who my true friends were in chile, and as it turns out I didn't have many. They turned me away, time and time again. And on new years eve, with all the hotels booked, kicked out of the bar I was living above, and repelled by all of my formerly supposed friends I spent the evening doing half of what chileans do so well. To keep my wits about me I decided not to drink, but that should never stop you from letting loose and having a good time. I bought a small digital camera that day, and went to the beach about 6 pm. By 10 I was hungry and ate some chorrizo from a vendor on the Ocho Norte.
Around 11 I staked out my spot on the rocks. With Valpo to my left, the beach to my right, and lots of little boats sitting about 100 meters out in the frozen pacific ocean I made friends with some swisschicks drinking the holy box-wine. I talked to some delinquentos from Santiago who wanted to know where I was staying so they could rob me...but as I had no place to stay I told them the truth and felt no remorse in it. Maybe they just wanted to crash at my place and were homeless like me, but I'm pretty sure not.
The fireworks made New Years seem like the 4th of July. It was the largest fireworks that I've ever seen in my life. Must have been 14 boats or so, all syncronized and shooting off the fireworks for a good 20-25 minutes. I couldn't believe it and as the waves crashed and champagne flowed I smiled and began my search for a party, alone in a crowd of millions. its not as hard as you might think.
I won 40 bucks at the casino as it was still early to go dancing, then went and found some FF (fake friends) for the night. A girl I worked with and her worthless boyfriend provided me the inlet, and I made aquaintences with the most boring of aliens. Only the russian was willing to dance as the other 3 (a brit, canuck, and fin) sat on the dancefloor listening to their ipod and looking at pictures of them pretending to have fun. Me and the russian actually had fun and took fun pictures of us having fun.
We all went to Valpo around 6 for more dancing, but the loser girls ditched me and the russian after bickering about not wanting to pay the cover to dance. the russian and I decided to go in search of food (highly unrecommended between 9-11am jan. 1). I continued my beautiful goal of relieving myself in preposterous places (like cliffs and ancient wonders of the world), this time on the building that denied my visa to stay in the country legally (take that! CHILE!!!)
We wound our way up the hill that I knew all too well and found every cafe cerrado-ed. At the top we caught the roller-coaster micro down the hill, stopping in front of the club we got ditched at. Proceeded back to Viña and got a carriage ride to the beach.
Thanks to the cash I made at the casino the whole evening was free.
I left the russian near her apt. as I had gotten rather bored of her after we stopped dancing, and went in search of my toothbrush, stowed away above the bar. Jose Luis found me and told me to come with him. It was now about 11-12ish.
I said "Just let me brush my teeth first" as he had the keys to the bar.
"You can brush your teeth after we get a drink"
I didn't understand "But everywhere is closed"
"We're going to the only bar that's open"
As we made the short walk he pulled out a small joint and lit it. I hadn't smoked in so long, and had been everywhere in the last 24 hours without a wink of sleep a sip of alcohol or a drag from a J. He handed it to me and I willingly oblidged.
Every word left my mind, I was a mute.
I could only smile, nod, and run like hell.
We got to the bar, opened the door, and it was full! People everywhere, and so Jose and I ordered a couple of liters of beer. The woman called. Stupidly I picked up the phone. What the hell was I thinking, I couldn't talk, I couldn't communicate. I fumbled through the conversation and must have seemed like I had some sort of mental disability of some sort.
After another liter or two I told Jose that I had to go.
With camera in hand I went out to meet the world. It was bright and foreign. It was a world of new years and good wishes. I wondered how long you can wish people happy new year...I try it out every once in a while still...but you can generally use it up to a week, and maybe two weeks after the fact.
I went back to the bar, Jose Luis let me in, and I passed out.
The next two weeks were glorious, as I spent them living this fantasy with Pamela. Only it seems that not everyone wants to live in fantasy worlds and that reality has taken its toll on them, has them held captive, like slaves who don't even know that they're slaves. Only, Pamela knew. She found me to live a little fantasy, to escape for a while. But damnit, why escape when you can be Peter Pan and Tinker Bell all the time?
Whatever, she sent me off well, and I doubt I'll ever go back to Chile. If we ever meet again I will be happy to see her, but am saddened that we couldn't share our fantasy a little bit longer.
I took a cab to Santiago after missing the last bus. Got to the airport round midnight, and when I got to the Dunkin Donuts, with a bunch of people around with food, and 3 people behind the counter they told me they were closed. Did I mention that I have a vendetta against anything Boston now?
Finally I arrived, only to meet a Bostonian volunteer at the airport with a most horrendous spanish accent. If there's one thing that I truly cannot stand its bad accents in spanish. I'm sorry to all those people who think they know spanish, but you speak so poorly that spanish speakers cannot understand you...so don't get bent out of shape when they don't know that you're looking for the bathroom or trying to order a redbull&vodka in some random bar that hasn't even heard of vodka, let alone redbull.
Since then I've been learning so much. Taking photographs like I'm a bulemic at a toilet convention. My spanish is progressing beautifully, although I refuse to use "Que Pedo!" And unlike some Bostonian folk, people compliment me on my accent.
You can read what I'm writing and see more photos on the website

or you can look for my photos on the photobucket...search for me, elgatos
peace,
and next time the blog will really begin

Que Pedo

In the world of languages its hard to imagine how different a language can be from region to region, from culture to culture, until you actually go and experience those places. In time you find out how the more important the thing is culturally, the more influential it is in the language.
In some Scandinavian languages there are 5, 6, maybe even 7 words for snow...because that is just how much of an impact it has on people's lives.
Here in Honduras, however, there's no snow. But there is a very basic diet of rice, beans, and eggs...
Such a diet can mean many things from Overweight people to people with very good muscles...but here it mostly means flatulence. People here fart and aren't afraid to admit it. They let it rip and its not even a side thought.
Farting is so prevalent in this society that it even makes its way into the common form of communication.
As you walk down the road or sidewalk and meet up with a friend the say "Hola, Que pedo?"
"Hey, what's the fart?"
That's the language here, because that's one of the most noticeable things in life here in Honduras...constant flatulence.