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.