Honduran Thanksgiving

Just to clarify: there is no such thing as Thanksgiving in Honduras. However, we got lucky because we teach at a North American school, so therefore, by default we receive a "Thanksgiving Break." Our students don't really care what this means, they just care that they get a 5 day weekend to enjoy thanks to their gringo teachers.

On Friday, the school threw a Thanksgiving dinner for all of the faculty and staff at IST. We went to a very fancy inn, dressed in our finest clothes, and had a wonderful dinner on the rooftop of the inn. It was a great time of visiting with coworkers and friends while enjoying the Honduran version of a Thanksgiving meal (they got surprisingly close to the real thing and left all of us satisfied). I should also mention that there was a talent show right before the meal was served so we could enjoy the various talents of those with whom we work. My friends and I decided to participate in this talent show as well. When we arrived we were given the lineup for the show: 3 singing acts, followed by our act. The groups singing chose very serious songs that were sung to Jesus in both English and Spanish. Our act was not serious in any way. We performed a synchronized swimming act, complete with swim caps and goggles, in a mock Olympic routine. The Hondurans loved it and it added a fun element to the evening.

(Above: our synchronized swimming team dressed up and ready to go celebrate Thanksgiving Honduras-style)

Now tomorrow is the real Thanksgiving. To celebrate, I will be getting on a bus and traveling the whole entire day, on my way to Nicaragua. A group of us decided to travel to Nicaragua because we were encouraged to leave the country this weekend; Honduran elections are being held on Sunday, Nov. 29th and there is no telling how things are going to play out after the elections (we would greatly appreciate prayer in light of this upcoming event!). School was already cancelled for Monday, Nov. 30th in anticipation of what could come from election day, so we will have extra time to travel around Nicaragua. Our present plans include a little sight seeing, a lot of resting and relaxing, and the best part, a day long hike up a volcano!

I plan on updating you all upon my return from Nicaragua and will hopefully have some good pictures to share as well. Thank you for all of the prayers for our country and please continue to pray that the political situation would work itself out and there would be peace in Honduras once again.

You can call me Coach Jones

The best day of the year is the first day of soccer season, in my opinion at least. For International School of Tegucigalpa (IST), that day was today. I wanted so badly to help out with the soccer teams at my school this year that I went to the athletic director and told him I would be willing to do absolutely anything as long as I got to be out there practicing with the team. He had a better idea: he made me head coach of the 7th and 8th grade girls team. My own team! I was so excited!

As soon as the school bell rang at the end of the day, girls scurried out of classrooms to catch the bus that takes them out to the practice field a few miles away. Among those girls was Ms. Jones (that's me), running to catch the bus, soccer boots in hand. When we got out to the field I anxiously strapped on my boots and joined the other coaches. This is when I realized that none of them speak any English at all and could not tell me what was going on or how the events of this first day were going to play out. One of the coaches had all the girls sit on the bleachers and started talking to them while the rest of us coaches were lined up before them. Suddenly, I heard him say the words, "Ms. Jones" followed by something else in Spanish. Then everyone's eyes were on me and it went silent. Apparently I was supposed to say something. I had no clue what. Luckily one of my students looked at me and said, "He is asking you to tell us about yourself." I wish I could say this was the only awkward moment of the day, but that would have been a lie and made my life too easy.

Finally it was time to meet my team. I didn't remember that 7th and 8th graders were so little! We walked out onto our field: a dirt field filled with lots of gravel and large, sharp, jagged rocks sticking out of the ground - as if I didn't hurt myself enough playing on grass, we might as well make things a little more dangerous! I was given a bag of soccer balls and a sack of scrimmage jerseys and then told to begin practice. The soccer balls were extremely flat and almost impossible to control when kicked, but still managed to break a piece off of our goal, which was made of old rotting wood sticking up out of the ground. We only managed to lose one ball in the bush during practice and I have no idea what positions my girls play because I don't know the words for them in Spanish and they don't know the words for them in English.

And yet, none of that mattered.

Despite everything that went terribly wrong today, I was out on that soccer field with a group of girls who want to learn to play soccer and that is one of the most wonderful things in the world. We have a lot of work to do if we plan on qualifying to San Pedro, but I think we are up to the challenge!

Hope House

This week was somewhat frustrating. It had already been a pretty long week and then Thursday morning my computer cord broke, leaving me without any resources for class (our school is highly based off of technology, so no computer means trouble). I was able to make it through Thursday and Friday without my carefully thought out class presentations, which were all locked within my dead computer, but when the weekend hit, I was ready to take a break!

Today (Saturday), I was blessed with the opportunity to go to a place called Hope House. Basically, we went to play with kids all day. Now I know, you would think by the weekend I would be sick of being around kids all day long and just want time to myself, but this was different. These kids didn't need me. I wasn't responsible for them. I was able to just go, be carefree, and be a kid myself instead of a strict, rule-enforcing authority figure.

Hope House is a home created by a man and his wife who decided to start adopting Honduran children in need of a home and now have 15 of the most beautiful children whom they now call their own. We went to help them out by playing with their kids for the day, but in all actuality, we were the ones who were blessed by the experience, not them.

As soon as we showed up, kids came running out of every corner of the house, hugging us and pulling our hands to come play with them. No introduction was needed, they accepted us into their home as if they had known us forever. We spent the day climbing hills, looking for tadpoles, playing hide-&-seek, soccer, frisbee, and board games, and having a fantastic time all around!

It was awesome seeing the way this family exalted God in their home and I am so thankful that for today at least, I was able to be a part of it.

(Below: Playing "Go-Fish" with Alex and Hector)

(Below: One of my buddies for the day. We went all over together and had a great time hiking and tree climbing!)

(Below: Jenny with Allie. She was the cutest little bilingual 3 year old I have ever met!)

Another typical Honduran day

Headed home from school on the bus today, we suddenly came to a stop, the driver put the bus in reverse, and we started backing up. Not unusual for Honduras because the streets are narrow and the cars drive where they want to. Also, on many occasions, too many lanes of traffic start coming at you creating a roadblock so your only option is to reverse and wait for them to thin out before you continue. This wasn't the case however. Rather, as we passed I realized that a truck was parked in the middle of the intersection sitting diagonally, blocking almost all traffic and making maneuvering the bus around it extremely challenging. The truck was completely deserted and the best part: the front tire had been removed as if the driver had the intentions of changing the tire, then mid tire-change gave up and went for a Coke (at least that is the story I made up in my mind.....which is quite probable). I couldn't help but stop and think, if this had happened in the states, people would be irate, the cops would be called, and the truck would be towed within a short time span of when it was left. Not so in Honduras. Here everyone just finds a way around it and goes on with their life. I love it!

As we continued on our bus route home, we randomly saw a big ol' cow making it's way up the street amidst the traffic. In case you didn't know, I live in the middle of a city that lacks farms or livestock of any kind in the immediate vicinity of our neighborhoods so you can see how this was a little odd. Again, in the states, this would draw immediate attention and life would come to a standstill until the problem was taken care of. In Honduras: hardly anyone even turned to look and the cow peacefully continued on it's wayward journey up the hill into one of the neighborhoods.

Just another typical Honduran day.