I got a job.

While interning at Ducks Unlimited, I have put the pedal to the medal as far as job searching is concerned. I have networked like a fool - dinner, drinks, receptions, calling anyone and everyone I have ever worked for or with - man, it was exhausting. I secured an interview a few weeks ago for an LC position on the hill. The interview went great, but I didn't get the job. First blow to my ego here in DC, but hey, I have zero hill experience so I couldn't blame them. They promoted someone already on staff, so good for that person whoever he is. After that, I got off the search saddle for a bit and just enjoyed my internship with DU. It was not a difficult one - it was actually fun, a wonderful break from others I have had in the past. Around 5 p.m. on Thursday as work was winding down, everyone in the office was cracking their beer and not focused on anything work related. As I'm spinning around in my chair, my phone rings. "Hey Casey - would you still be interested in working for us?" Me: "Uh, does it have the word job associated with it, because if it does, I'm your girl." Just kidding, I didn't really say that in the spirit of not sounding desperate, but let's be honest. I am. So naturally, I said yes and she said "You start Monday at 9 a.m." Well alright. I guess I have a job now. I am not exactly sure what my job title will be or even what I will be doing. I am sure that the salary is awwwwfullll and I will be struggling to pay off my student loans, but they say that is what your first few years are like here in DC. I didn't realize that this sort of lifestyle would merit skipping two meals a day and sleeping on my new friend's air mattress, but you've got to do what you've got to do. Now that I know that I am staying, I am hot on the trail of apartment searching. Finding a decent and affordable place to live in DC is like trying to find a straight guy in Dupont. Impossible. Aside from craigslist, I don't have much to go on except word of mouth so I am hoping that something works out soon. Drifting around is not going to work out for much longer, I am ready to unpack!

It is Saturday night and I am staying in. I know that some would consider that lame, but to me, it's ideal. I am sleepy at 9 every night anyways and I don't really like to drink so I'm good. I spent this day reading an amazing financial planning book called Beyond Paycheck to Paycheck. I learned a lot. Namely, you have to have money to make money. Damniittt. I went to DU and packed up my stuff earlier and then met Tike for lunch. Tike is a friend I met during my layover in ORD, He is an amazing man with a career that most people would die for. He makes bank, travels all over the world, and is seemingly very happy. He is engaging and wonderful, and I am so glad that I have him as a friend. I will probably only get to see him once a month or so, but even so, I think this is the beginning of a beauutiful friendship. We went to Taylor's Deli. Him and I share a serious love for food. It is probable that this is why we get along so well. After lunch, I hit up Macy's and a few other stores. Shopping today = not fun and not successful. True story, I didn't buy a single thing. Those who know me well know that this is a feat. I am starting to get nervous about my first day on Monday. I have no idea what I am going to wear. What if I suck at this new job? What if I hate it? What if the people there are insane? All legitimate concerns, but I am promising myself that I won't complain out loud and that I will make friends with each and every person even if I secretly can't stand them. I am going to be an adult and not curse or gossip. I should insert the word try in there somewhere. Baby steps. At DU, I used more cuss words that regular words on a day to day basis. I will miss that :)

I imagine that it is normal to be this nervous about your first day at a new job. Apparently there is a staff meeting at 10 every Monday. I was told that I am going to be speaking to the staff and telling them about myself - freshman year style sort of thing. I hope I don't turn all red like I usually do when I am nervous. It is not cute. I will rock this just like I rock everything else. That will be my mantra. I hope I like it - If I don't, these next few months are going to be rough. Either way, I made a decision on blind faith, packed a few bags, and headed up here alone. I got a job in the toughest economy in decades, and am living on my own two feet. So no matter what happens, I am proud of myself for doing it - living the life I always said I would, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Just a settin.

Day 21 living in a hotel…
Megan just told me that I should be blogging about my experiences there. Probably would have started on day one had I known that this was going to turn into a month long experience. On a side note, I don’t know how my fingers are even functioning with this crazy hunger I’ve got going on right now. I have been trying to barter with Megan to get her to come to Moe’s with me a split a burrito – oh the joys of an intern budget. Idle time can make a person go crazy with ideas. I’ve flitted around from one thing to the next this morning. I have been thinking about what in the hell my next step should be, but I keep landing at the same conclusion. 1) I want to be a writer, travel writer to be specific. 2) I need to go ahead and spend the fall in Italy. 3) I am not sure that I want to pass anymore time without Nick beside me. 4) What in the hell am I going to do in Omaha, Nebraska. 5) Is it okay to just do nothing for a while? Take some average, non time consuming part time job and just have fun? Have a huge yard sale, get rid of all my stuff, and get on livin…that’s where I am at right now. Is that irresponsible? I know what will happen – I’m gonna get a job offer the second after I make my mind up to just let loose and live easy. I want to go back to Europe, Asia, New Zealand, Australia…I want to cook and eat and live and love. Eat, Pray, Love style. And that’s okay, right? My fear is that if I do that, just go live with Nick and have fun, that I will get pregnant and then married and fall off the track that I put myself on. I created these ridiculous expectations so why can’t I break them? I think I can, and I think I want to. I want to spend a week cooking, running, picking flowers up and drawing them for no reason – I want to take photography classes and walk dogs and run around like crazy. Real life has not left me anytime for this, and I don’t know what kind of life I am living if I don’t even have time to breathe. The sad thing is that I don’t even have a real job yet and I am already feeling this way. What does that say about our society? Is life meant to be stifling? Are we meant to lose all our creativity to the working world? The key is to find an outlet where you can express yourself – how do we get there? What if I write a book? This is what happens with idle time. I sit and think. Not a good idea.

That Just Happened...

You know how you constantly promise yourself that you will honor your commitments and sit down to write every single day? Well, that hasn’t happened. The last time I wrote, I was sitting on a porch in Utila thinking “How in the hell am I going to get out of here?” A trip that was so fantastic from the start went from great to horrible in 2.5 seconds. It’s always fun to wake up to someone trying to break into your room in a building that you are staying in alone. The cinder blocks stacked up outside my room in the mornings were icing on the cake. With a little movement of plane tickets and schedules, I was on my way back home. Two weeks away, are you kidding me? Am.a.teur. Looking back, I probably should have sucked it up, but I am easily swayed by the hint of danger in foreign countries. I am reevaluating that decision to leave from my office chair, but hey, I did what I thought was the right thing to do. If I hadn’t left, then I wouldn’t have stayed the night at a sweet place in La Ceiba and eaten the best fish of my life there. In between now and then, I spent some time in Fayetteville and Hot Springs with friends and family, and am now city slickin in Washington D.C. I took an internship with Ducks Unlimited, and that is where I currently sit. As I age, I feel like complaining has become more of a habit than it used to be, and I just don’t like it. This internship, not the best – the days crawl, and I mean crawl by, because there is nothing for us to do. There are too many interns in a place with not enough to do, so we try to engage each other by having mini debates and making fun of Michael’s Justin Bieber hair. Hey, it could be much much worse as far as internships go, but seriously, I’m 23 and a damn intern. Not. Okay. I came here to find a job. “Don’t come home without a job” was Nick’s little catchphrase. Welp everyone, I still don’t have a job.

Finding a job here in D.C. has been something I eat, sleep, and breathe. I am a cover letter writing machine and I pump those resumes out like a mad person. I had one job interview, and it went really well. Well enough that I didn’t get the job. However, I did get the “we LOVEDDD you so much, if ANYTHING else comes open would you consider it?” speech. Apparently that is the customary, you suck, try again speech and I just don’t realize it.

Crazy things happen in this town. Every. Single. Day. Today for example some crazy woman starts screaming in my ear while I am trying to enjoy my mediocre sandwich. She says “Obama deserves to die! He is the reason that I am a prostitute on 4th and L. He is black just like the pimp I work for. Fuck Obama!” Alright, sorry about your luck, could you not scream in my face? Thanks you crazy bitch.

Ashton tells me this story the other day – so she’s walking down the street and gets hassled by some man in a wheelchair for money. She says hey so sorry, I don’t have any cash. He says oh no problem, have a nice day, enjoy your legs. He has none. How in the world do you respond to that?

During my housing search I go check out a place in Logan Circle and make a silly comment about how the house looks exactly like a house from a scary movie with it’s “old charm.” The owner looks at me and says “well, my boys have told me that they have seen, um, little ghost children.” Me: “Uh, are you serious?” Owner: “Yes, but I’ve never seen them, so don’t worry about it.” I’ll pass, thanks.
This story is my favorite, the icing on the cake if you will. My DC roommate, Ashton and I have run into a sort of unfortunate situation here in D.C. We had a place for a month and then had to move out suddenly. We thought hey, no worries, we’ll live in a hotel for a bit until we find a place. That was in June. It is now July 22 and we are still in a hotel. We have lived in 3 different rooms in 2 different hotels. En route to our current hotel room, Ashton and I are moving our own luggage from the lobby to the 8th floor. We have a large amount of stuff, including our house stuff from the last place. The cart is big and heavy and the elevator is not so big. We get the cart jammed in the door and spaghetti noodles and a bottle of oil spill out. There are two girls, probably a few years younger than us, sharing the elevator with us. They are quiet at first and just observe mine and Ashton’s … outburst if you will. We are tired, frustrated, and sick to death of being in a hotel, so the string of obscenities that came out when our groceries hit the floor and the cart got stuck weren’t pretty. The two girls offer their assistance and follow us out onto our floor. They look at each other and say…”Can we join hands?”
Um, what? Yes, join hands. I needed a prayer, so hey, let’s do this. This so called prayer turned into a two to three minute long crazy speech with one girl speaking and the other girl moaning “oh lord” porn star style. Imagine the most awkward situation possible and you can understand how hard I was trying not to laugh. My lip had blood on it from biting it so hard. True story. After the prayer, one girl tries to force Ashton and I to take clothes from her. She pulls an H&M bag out from her purse and says “While we were praying, God told me to give you these clothes. I don’t want to, but he said I have to.” This turned into a five minute barter session of..here’s why I don’t want your clothes you random crazy girl. As Ashton and I are carting our luggage to our room, one yells down the hall at us – “Pay attention to your dreams tonight!” Scary.

City Slickin

June 1

First flight, XNA to ORD – goodbye to Nick, I cried, shocking. Told him that I wanted to move in together if I didn’t get a job in DC. Not gonna happen he said. Sad

ORD – every flight to Reagan is overbooked. Flight was at 10:45, didn’t get out until 6 p.m. Made some friends, Tike, Hailey, the bitter attorney – Tike and I became fast friends. He works for the Pentagon and is in the Air Force. Hopefully he can help Nick get to where he is going. Tike and I hit it off and were jinxing each other. It was that sort of connection. Great man, one I can definitely see myself hanging out with again. Hope to see him around. Crazy attorney, hated his life, job, family and friends. I hope to never be that miserable.

ORD to DCA – Adam – largest ripped black man I’ve ever met. Personal trainer, soft spoken. Chef for The White House for the last 25 years. Invited me to come to The White House for a personal tour and to spend some time in the kitchen!

Day one in DC. Overwhelming, nerve wracking, intense yet relaxed. I start my job tomorrow and am excited to see what it is like. I have been talking about coming to DC since I was in the sixth grade. I knew then what I know now - that I love America, I love the possibility for change that government offers, I love the madness that is politics. Finding a way to funnel that interest into a degree in college led to my B.A. in International Relations and European Studies. I am thirsty for a career and am here to find one. I have read article after article about how impossible it is to find a job and how networking is the only way. It’s all a game of luck they say. I can’t afford for luck to be my confidant here. A real woman makes her own luck, and that is what I am here to do. Bring it on DC, bring it on. A tip from a fellow stranded traveler yesterday in Chicago ended in my subscribing to bradtraverse.com, a job seekers mecca. I sent a few emails out to the EPA and WWF this morning and applied for a job as a staff assistant for a congresswoman. If I apply for 3 jobs per day every single day this month, that will equal 90 jobs in one month. Times 3 for each month I am here, 270 jobs in one month. I understand that I am competing with 1000s for these jobs, but 270 in 3 months? That is dedication. I am going to stick to it and this city slicker is going to find a job! If not, the alternative is far from terrible. Heading back to a place I love to live with my best good friends and the most amazing boyfriend a girl could ask for is not too shabby of an option. I don’t see going home as a failure at all, but I see not trying with everything I’ve got to get a job while I’m here as one. Now on to this Ambassadorial Scholarship application. I’m working on it now, but I’m torn as to whether or not to submit it. What if I actually got it? That would put me in another country for 1-2 years, which would be wonderful, but do I know what I want to do enough to leave to pursue it? I have no idea what I would get my master’s in hence, what schools should I apply to abroad? Either way, I’m in the running so I’m getting with it.

This morning, I woke up later than I would have liked due to staying up until 2 (out of nervousness of the big ole city). I got dressed and followed Ashton to the metro she takes to get to work in the mornings. I wanted to force myself to get out so that I could find my own way back home and hopefully get my bearings. Things aren’t too terribly confusing here, and the metro makes everything very accessible. If only the rest of the country would embrace the amazingness of public transportation. It’s wonderful. It takes 2 minutes to get somewhere it should take 20 minutes to get to. No cars, less carbon emissions, hit to global warming…hello? Okay, I’m done. I ended up on Pennsylvania Avenue this morning to find my new place of business. 1301 Pennsylvania Avenue is a huge office building with a Starbucks and a deli underneath it. It’s very close to The White House and you can see the Washington Monument from the top. I cannot believe that I am working there for the summer. I called April, the current intern, and she met me downstairs. We walked to Subway and had lunch and chatted about the internship, getting a job, and DC. She is great, and one of those people who I instantly connected with, so I hope that she stays around here. If a girl like that who graduated from Northwestern is having such a hard time getting a job, I don’t have a shot in hell. Okay, stay positive. I’m good enough and I’m smart enough. Get a grip. Okay. I’m good.

After I left April, I wandered around seeing if I could smile at someone and get a smile back. DC people, what is your issue? Smile back! It makes me self conscious when you look at the ground. I love the south for that reason. Even if a man has zero teeth, he’ll still show you his gums as you walk by. Eh, it’s a give and take I imagine. Just got a knock at the door. The paint outside our apartment has fresh paint. Don’t touch the walls. Check. This apartment is wonderful. It’s on the third floor of a building with 3 apartments total. Each has two bedrooms. You walk in the front door and there is a large living room and kitchen with a door out to a small balcony overlooking P street. The bathroom has one of those fancy schmany sinks that is above the sink and is a circle. The shower is the same size and the ones in our dorm rooms in Italy, Sevan, Hailey, Julie – you can appreciate this. Water pressure here is nonexistent, but hey, I’m not complaining one bit. Ashton and I have our own little rooms complete with a bed and a few dressers. The next two months here will be incredible. I am so fortunate to be here, and I’m happy to be living with a best friend from years past. I’m really really happy here.

After Ashton got off work tonight, we went exploring. We headed to Georgetown in search of the restaurant that my friend Mike works at – Farmers and Fishers, or something like that. You might say that we passed it. We ended up in Rosslyn, which is in Virginia, I think. Two points Casey and Ashton. The shopping in Georgetown is amazing. Betsey Johnson, Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie, random and amazing boutiques. Ah, it’s like heaven. There are literally like 15 blocks of nothing but restaurants and clothing stores. And ice cream places. There is an ice cream place every 15 feet. It’s great for my tongue, bad for my tummy.

We finally reached our restaurant at 9 am. Having set out at 6, we were hungry. The restaurant was delish and I got to spend some time with Mike. It’s nice having friends around who you never get to see. I like it. After the restaurant, we walked down to the metro and then DuPont. Ashton didn’t make it past the Krispy Kreme store. I stayed outside because I know that an 11 p.m. run to that place is a disaster. The girl comes out with a damn box. They offered her a big discount because they were closing. So here she is, strolling down P street with a huge thing of donuts. Walk.of.shame. Tomorrow is day one of the internship. I feel good now that I know how to get there, but I’m nervous too. I have no idea what to wear or what to expect. Please let this turn out to be great. Otherwise, I’ll be spinning my wheels and I’m not havin that.

Day 1 and 2 at work have come and gone, and am relieved. I am so exhausted tonight, and wondering if I can find the will power to go out tonight. But let’s be real honest, I’m going out. First day at work – walked in at 10 a.m. as instructed, got shown to my computer, and got to work. There were a few introductions, but it was pretty straightforward. I wrote a press release announcing a House Natural Resources Committee oversight hearing on the oil spill. Having never written a press release, I got my feathers ruffled a little bit. Literally the guy says to me

“We are bringin in a man named Ryan to testify at the oversight hearing.”

“Okay, well what is he last name?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, you’ll have to do some research.”

“Alright, can you give me the points of what you want me to say in this press release.”

“I just did, oversight hearing with HNRC, we’re bringing in Ryan.”

“Yes sir, I’ll have that to you by the end of the day.”

Welp, I got it done by the grace of God and a little digging. Lord only knows how. I did some other random stuff yesterday, but mostly researched and tried to familiarize myself with this project that I am taking on about the Louisiana coastal area. Within about five minutes of my day, I realized there was something strange going on. Every single person (there are 7 employees in the office, 5 men, 2 women) was cussing up a firestorm. I’m talking fuck and jackass, the whole 9 yards. There are 11 bottles of liquor beside my desk. There is whiskey and cigars in the office freezer and beer in the conference room. One of the staff members with DU celebrated his birthday the other day. The celebration involved beer and ice cream cake in the conference room. It’s a strange experience to watch my bosses and fellow interns drink while at work, especially after working for Walmart Corporate. I was wondering if it was all a trick, but then I realized that it’s probably not. “God, beer, family.” That’s what Dan said today in reference to his list of priorities. “If it’s not on that list, I don’t care. The order fluctuates.” I imagine that’s pretty indicative to DU across the board. Welcome to the good ole boys club. Also, I have never seen so many ducks in one place in my life. Ducks and a half winking deer head that is referred to as the gay deer. I actually think he’s the prettiest deer I’ve ever seen. Is that odd? April the intern’s last day is today, and I am so sad to see her go. She was my friend instantly and now she is leaving. I hope that the summer is not bleak without her. There are two other interns working with me now. Michael Gault. What can I say about Michael? Michael is a nice boy, quick witted and full of the southern charm that makes work feel like home. He tests my patience at times, but I hope that we can get along. I think him and I are the owners of two very similar personalities minus the conservative parts. He is from South Carolina and he fits in with the staff like he is one of them. Maybe a should go home and shoot some guns, kill a turkey, then head back. Megan is from Michigan and still in college. Sweet kid with an apparently great dad. He sent her this huge arrangement of orchids and duck decoys with pussy willows today. Bless her heart I think she was embarrassed. What a funny dad. Beer drinking happened again today at work. 5 pm came and the 6 packs came out. Bud heavy is the “official beer” of DU I was informed, but no one drank it. Funny. The Budlight went down fast as did the Sunchips April requested. After work I walked home for the first time instead of taking the metro. En route, I saw some protestors so I thought hey, I oughta walk over there and see what all the ruckus is about. Gaza was hating all over Israel It looked like. Those protestors blocked my very first view of The White House. It was a good moment standing there when I realized that I am finally doing what I said I would do in the 6^th grade. I may not have a real job, but I am living and working here, so I think that counts for something. The White House lawn is beautiful and the surrounding area has the best trees around. I’m laying in my bed exhausted, wishing I could sleep through the entire night. Ashton wants to go out and I feel like I should. I want to do some serious sightseeing tomorrow, I feel like it’s necessary.

June 8, 2010

Around 9:30 last night, Ashton pleaded with me to go to Target near Columbia Heights with her to get ingredients for her brownie cake. Target closes here at 10 p.m. on weeknights. “Well, I guess we’d better hurry,” she says. Away we went. She sprinted off of the metro, and I just stayed in the entrance and waited for her to get back. I probably shouldn’t stand around in the metro late at night by myself, but I made sure to stay in eyesight of the metro attendant people, so never fear. I’ve got a great brain up here, and I use it most times. After we got home, I nearly collapsed out of exhaustion. DC is wearing me down. The mixing of the brownies and clanging pans kept me up for a while, but eventually, I nodded off to sleep. I woke up bright and early this morning to my phone buzzing around telling me that it’s time to wake up. Work starts at 9, so my wake up call doesn’t come until 7 am. I can handle 7 am. Any earlier, probably not. I’m working on it. If I am not a night person and I am not a morning person, does that make me not a person? I really do need to just wake up! That’s neither here nor there. Note to anyone reading. If you go to Whole Foods in DC, you will spend an extraordinary amount of money on nothing and wonder where it all went. I did this yesterday.

On my walk to work this morning, I only got turned around one time. I consider this success. My morning walk is 1.56 miles (according to googlemaps) so twice a day is a nice little trek. If I would stop eating my feelings of loneliness, these treks might pay off. However, the probability of me not consuming an astonishing amount of food is slim to none. Give and take I say. My internship so far has been nothing but hustle and bustle. Today went by in a flurry of press releases, briefings, media advisories, and literally hundreds of phone calls. I like to stay busy, but today I was worthless. I forgot where I saved things twice in a row. Trouble at home with my step dad’s health spurred my forgetfulness. I just need to get it together and focus. I am determined to become the frontrunner of this intern group and make a name for myself…and thus, get a job. I cannot not get a job at this point. Student debt is an unforgiving entity. Those pills are just a pilin up. Whitney Tawney. I love this girl. She basically chose me to be an intern for Ducks. She’s 24 and will probably be one of my good friends in DC…I like her. I have a great people meter, and she’s reading green for sure. It’s nice to have her around during the day. I am enjoying the people I work with, I really am. Lord knows there are some characters, but mostly positives. I think I will keep the bleeding heart democrat stuff under wraps for a while, at least until everyone gets to know me.

I need to start getting out more in DC. How do you make friends here? Work is all consuming for most I’m sure, and those few off hours dedicated to socializing are probably with groups of friends. I need to break into some of those groups. I am in need of some girlfriends stat. I miss home today. I miss my Nick and my mom and my friends. I miss being hugged. I remember that most about living in Taiwan. I missed physical affection from all of my loved ones at home. For some reason, I am missing that same thing right this second. Tomorrow is day 5 at work. Hopefully I will step it up and make some waves.

"Life is short. Eat dessert first."

Rare are those days that you hold your eyes as wide open as possible just so you can take in every centimeter of memory that you possibly can. My eyes are sore tonight, and my heart is full. My jaw hurts from smiling and laughing, and my tummy hurts from eating an Italian style, straight out of the wood brick oven pizza with my five new friends. Last night during a walk around town after the beach, Gail and I stopped in at La Pirata, a bar here near the pier. Our goal was to take in the sunset for the day, drink a margarita, and watch a hockey game. The latter was not really my preference, but hockey seems fun. I just went with it. The game wasn't on, but the sunset sure was, so we watched it go down. In Honduras, the sun sets in about 2 minutes. It seems like it is racing down the sky to get to the beautiful ocean as quickly as possibly. The sun and I have something in common. In La Pirata, Gail and I met Steve, an American expat from Savannah, Georgia. After a few hours of conversation, the two of us and Steve made a boating date for today at 1 p.m. These invitations run rampant here, so I was not sure if it would actually happen. After a few hours at La Pirata, Gail and I decided to find some dinner. We ended up at Evelyn's. Evelyn's is owned by a former Jamaican, Evelyn, who has more than a large obsession with Bob Marley. From floor to ceiling the place is decked out in Bob Marley tapestries, posters, albums, everything. Typical of Honduras, the meal was fresh fish, Tuna, with curry rice and a boiled potato. Fresh, simple, and very good. About a half hour after we are done eating, Gail and I get tired of waiting for our check so we go in to pay. In case you were wondering, the recipes for Mary Jane Brownies, Special Stir Fry, Cannabis Enchiladas, or even Cannabis Stew were plastered all over the walls for your reference. Pot is a staple here, like the potato is to an Idahoan. It's strange to walk into a bar and get greeted by the smoke cloud of the people before you see a face. There is a calmness to this island, and maybe that is the reason. Smoking and rum are two equal parts of the equation. While teaching the kindergarten children today at the local school, two were fighting over a juice box. One is taunting the other. "Do you want my apple juice? Too bad, you can't have it, it's mine." The other responds, "Take your apple juice, I don't want it. I have Flor de Cana at home." Flor de Cana is the local rum. Two points kid #2. I hope that he wasn't drinking rum from his sippee cup, but I can't say that it would surprise me. Spending time with the local kids the last two days was fun. Day one of the classes, we gathered our supplies and headed to a public school near BICA. Our first class had about 45 students. They seemed so excited to have us there and were even more excited to paint and decorate their cards for Mother's Day. My mother is like a mangrove tree. My mother protects me from harsh weather, she makes sure that I have food and water, she wraps her strong arms around me and tells me she loves me. Estella and I wrote the poem, what a tear jerker. It just has a better ring to it in Spanish. Never trust a small child with black paint. We have them put their hand print on the cards for their mom, and BAM! Black hand print on my dress. It's too bad that the dress is the perfect color for me, that one rare dress that is great in every way. It died an unfortunate death that dress. It's hard to get mad at a 3 year old, so I just went with it and rocked that black mark for the rest of the day. Before we left the first class, the little babies seemed so sad for us to go. They were attached to my legs and hugging so tight. It is incredible what you take from an experience like this, teaching in another country. These kids have so little in comparison. They share a box of old and broken crayons and markers for a table of 20. They sit in a hot classroom with a small fan all day long and don't make a peep about it. They sit and learn their lessons and are happy to be in school. At 3 and 4, they seemed like little adults. I painted, colored, and cut out mom and baby mangrove trees all day, and enjoyed it so much. They appreciated us and seemed as intrigued as I was. Education is something we take very much for granted in the United States. I will never take it for granted again. These children are blessed to be in school here, even if they are sub par by our standards. They are happy and healthy, and truly enjoying the classroom. It was a refreshing for the soul type of experience.

This morning, we spent some time in a third classroom making Mother's Day cards. This classroom was a small one, but the children were just as well behaved. They were so meticulous with their artwork, and so excited to please their moms for Mother's Day. After school, I spent some time researching coral reefs for my research project here, then headed out to meet Gail and get on the boat. Sure enough, Steve, ODell, and Gary were ready to go. ODell, aka Frenchie, is a 46 year old Frenchwoman with enough attitude to make Tyra look like nothing. Gary, a 55 something retired guy from Chicago had one of those abrasive personalities that Chicago residents tend to have, but he was enjoyable to be around. Steve is around 65, Gail 50, and me, 22...we made quite the menagerie. We jumped into Steve's beautiful boat and set out for an adventure. We motored out to The Keys and stopped at a private island in the middle of The Cays and Utila. H.E.A.V.E.N. is the only way I can begin to describe this place. Surrounded on all sides by perfect turquoise water, pelicans with crisp white heads roosting everywhere you look, and waves and wind making the most wonderful noise, coalesced for a sensory overload. It's so incredibly peaceful in the middle of nowhere. You are the only person on Earth, and all the stress melts away. However temporary, the bliss is striking. The five of us spent the afternoon sitting waist deep in 90 degree water, drinking beer, and talking about anything and everything. As the youth of the trip, my fun group of older friends felt it would be a good idea to lay the life lessons on me thick. "Find your passion, pinpoint what you want, and get it. End of story. It's that simple." "Don't live outside your means. Just because you make $100,000 a year doesn't mean you need to buy a Ferrari." "Open up a credit card and use it then pay it off, you need good credit for later on." "Life is short. Eat dessert first." "Don't play games in relationships. You need to know who the person is beside you at night, because when they start snoring like a train or farting under the covers, you just have to roll with it...and if you've ever heard a Frenchman snore, you'd understand what I'm talking about." Layer upon layer of life lessons were given to me tonight, and I opened my ears as wide as I could to catch every ounce. Collectively, we had over 200 years of life on that boat, and I was not about to waste it. After the island, we headed over to a bar, had a few rum and cokes, some more laughs and life lessons, and then a swim. Top it off with a margherita pizza, and all was perfect in my world. I am walking home tonight, soaking it all in thinking "What did I do right in my life? What a perfect day." I step onto my porch in my treehouse, go to open the door, and BAM. Scorpion. Next to my toe. I guess that is another lesson for me. No matter how perfect a day, always watch out for scorpions. :)

May 8, 2010

I think this might be what getting a tattoo feels like. A constant pinch of heat and bruise like tenderness that is agonizing. This morning after my cinnamon roll, I walked down to the bank to get some lempiras to last me the next two weeks. There was a line out the door that was guarded by two men carrying semi-automatic rifles. The ATMs conveniently were not working for me, so I had no choice but to wait in a very long, middle of the hot sun, line. I finally made it through the door into the bank only to be greeted by about 20 people snaked down the wall waiting in line also. An hour and a half later, I had my money in my hand. The employees in Banco Atlantida were doing transactions with a typewriter. This kind of banking juxtaposed with my drive through in and out in 2 minutes bank was a somewhat humbling experience. Afterwards, I made my way to The Mango Inn to spend some time with Gail, who leaves on Monday. Needless to say, Monday will be a sad day. We layed out for about an hour, swam in the pool for a bit, layed in the hammock, listened to music…just lived the good life today. I put on sunscreen – 70 on my face and 30 on my body. Apparently the 30 was not waterproof. Walking to lunch, I felt this intense pain in my legs from the rays of the sun. It felt like someone was pouring acid all over me. I thought that something had bitten me. A snake or a scorpion, who knows around here. I glanced at my legs and they were BRIGHT red. I’m talking overcooked lobster red. Not a good look for me. I looked at my arms. RED. I lifted up my dress and pulled the swimsuit bottoms to the side. I look like a peppermint. Also not a good look for me. Sitting at Munchies eating some less than good chicken nachoes, I draped a white cotton thin cardigan over my arms to keep them from burning. Thank the dear lord I had aloe vera at home. Gail saw how much pain I was in so she gave me her hotel room key so I could lay in the AC. That helped for about five minutes until I realized that laying felt like laying on needles. I hesitantly got up and walked home and put my aloe in the freezer. I stripped down and have been walking around my house full of windows for about 4 hours with nothing but my peppermint suit and aloe vera all over me. Things stick to aloe, so I cannot sit down. Outside there is an actual aloe vera plant that I chopped into and rubbed on my legs, which hurt the worst. The aloe vera is yellowish green so now I look like a tinsel draped candy cane. Awesome. Currently, I have the dress my mom bought me on with two fans pointing directly at me. I heard a whistle earlier which I assume means that someone saw me walking around naked. Glad to know that someone enjoys the sight of a red person who looks like she has on a white swimsuit. I think the best option at this point is to take my aloe out of the freezer, head to Gail’s, watch movies, and have a sleepover with a 50 year old. Thank goodness for climate control. I wish I had it here.

"Is fried okra really a southern thing? I had no idea."

May 3, 2010

Last night, Gail and I headed to dinner around 6:30. La Piccola was delicious as always. During this dinner of kingfish, rice, and vegetables, I discovered a very striking bit of information. Gail asked me if I had ever heard of okra. I just kind of started at her. “Of course I have heard of okra. It’s a delicious staple of my life. Have I heard of it?! Uh, yeaaa!” She seemed surprised by my response. “You do realize that okra is a southern thing that no one else eats, right?” What a slap in the face. A southern thing?! Okra? Uh…okra is delicious. Thank goodness I am from the South!

I went on a search for Trits after dinner, but couldn’t find any. Very sad. We settled for ice cream sandwiches that melted in about .5 seconds. Luckily I eat my ice cream this fast on a regular basis. Gail wasn’t feeling well, so we headed home around 9. I started a new book, one of the few here to choose from, called Red Dust by Ma Jian. It’s about a man who decides he is not happy with his life so he buys a one way train ticket and leaves it all behind. I figure that this person and I probably have quite a bit in common. This morning at 8 a.m., I went terrestrial patrolling with Chele. Being on a four-wheeler for three straight hours does some damage to one’s butt. By the time we stopped to walk around, I was thinking “thankkkky youuuu.” I actually looked up at the sky and put my hands together in a praying motion and let the good lord above know how I was feeling. It made my thank you so much more… Italianesque. We explored the entire island from tip to tip. When we started getting into the thick of the mangrove forest, we come up on this empty golf cart. The keys are in the ignition, but no one is there. I thought I heard footsteps up the way, but when I went to investigate there was no one. We stood very still and listened for a while. Still nothing. Chele makes a little joke at this point “arranyas de banana o boa.” Arranya, spider, and boa, unfortunately large constricting snake, two words that I quickly recognized, did not sit so well with me. I said “ahora Chele, aqui in Utila, are there boa constrictors and banana spiders?” She laughed. That is not an appropriate time to laugh. She says to me, yes, of course there are and does a hand gesture to signify the size of these spiders. Her hands were positioned in the shape of a Frisbee. A yellow and black spider the size of a Frisbee. How many are there? Oh, they are very common. Again, not a good answer. And the boas, there have been cases where humans have gone missing here and these disappearances are attributed to the boas. Again, another exciting discovery. We started motoring around again. The lizards here are the size of small cats with blue heads and electric green bodies. I only saw three, but they are so fast that I wouldn’t be surprised if we passed dozens without seeing. I saw a Jesus Lizard. I have no idea if that is what they are actually called, but they are the little ones from Jurassic Park with the big palm frond around their neck who stand up straight and run like the wind. A few swampers crossed our path, but nothing too out of the ordinary. During our trip, Chele took me to a few rocky ocean overlooks. Going up on Pumpkin Hill, in Spanish, sounds like “punkeeen il” which I find hysterical, you can see a 360 degree view of the ocean surrounding the island. Quite a sight. After three hours, a visit to the pharmacy for aloe and anti-itch cream for my bug bites, we headed back to BICA. I started working on the Reduce, Reuse, Recycle signs that we are hanging in the front of the building, and then I designed an information flyer to hang around town about global warming. Not too bad for a day’s work. Now I need to spend my night trying, and probably continuing to not succeed, at finding a place to live in DC for the summer. Who knew it would be so hard? While I am searching, I will try my best not to be bothered by the fact that when I cross my legs, they slide around on top of each other. I gave into the Utilan way and am now slathering baby oil all over my legs in the late afternoon and night so that instead of attacking me, the sand flies and mosquitoes just get stuck. It’s quite disgusting, but effective.

Honduras

April 27, 2010

Sitting in Sushi Maki in the Miami airport, I’m taken back to the han bao place in Pingtung. It’s funny how a taste, smell, even a voice can transport me back in time. Vegetable fried rice in the states tastes just the same as it does cooked by that sweet lady in Pingtung. It’s been less than a year and here I am again, leaving all that is comfortable behind. The stresses of life are sometimes so heavy that I daydream myself away. My daydreams manifest into my fingertips typing onto my keyboard and soon, I hit the book it button. So here I am again, wrapped in a thin airport blanket shivering from cold and anticipation. I have no idea what lies ahead of me, but I know that the stress that will most certainly come with this change will be the good kind of stress. The kind that stretches the mind into every crevasse of the skull, stretches my heart and lets it beat for others aside from myself, but most importantly the kind of stress that reawakens my want to change this world. Each day, I feel myself being put out like a candle that cannot compete with the wind. Resolve is not just there, it is earned, and I am here to find mine again, this time armed with a degree and a restlessness that will not allow me to fail. The other side of the coin – I am terrified. I couldn’t sleep last night because of all the worry about getting to where I need to go on time. My final flight from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba has a short connection time, and I am so worried that I won’t make it. If that happens, I will have to stay the night in San Pedro by myself. The people in the airport walk around with rifles, and the M13 gang apparently controls the streets at night. I can’t stay the night in the airport because it closes at midnight. So – I’m praying for a flight that leaves on time. If I can just get to La Ceiba tonight, I think that I will be okay. Nick’s sister Jenny connected me with a friend of hers who volunteers in La Ceiba at an orphanage. I’m armed with crayons and coloring books in case I get any of those pleading looks that I hate so much to see. I also have peach 0s for Jennie as a thank you for letting me stay the night. I’m just ready for this layover to end so I can get to it! Get this month started!!

April 28, 2010

If I could title this day, I would title it eyes on the horizon. The only way I kept from getting seasick today on the Utila Princess was by sucking on a life saver while watching the horizon for an hour. You underestimate the power of seasickness in ruining your equilibrium until you test it and your throw up right into the ocean. Lucky for me, the breathing exercises that Robin the Canadian I met on the boat showed me kept this from happening.

Currently, I am sitting on a wooden bench on the second floor of the BICA Building in Utila. Getting here was quite difficult – probably the most logistically challenged place that I have come to so far in life. Last night after I finally got to fly out of Miami, I connected in San Pedro Sula. I went through customs quickly and checked onto my TACA Airlines flight to La Ceiba. I made the flight in plenty of time and held on for dear life as the tiny plane bucked through the air. People were staring at me like I was crazy for covering my eyes the whole time, but hey…what can you do. I met two guys a little older than me in the La Ceiba airport. Chris was an expat from the US who left it all to open a toy business in Tegucigalpa. With him was a photographer from STL coming to help him get the word out on his business. The two helped me to get a cab to Jennie Motto’s house and made sure that I made it okay. It is so nice to have helping hands when you are sleep deprived and traveling alone. I was exhausted from my long long day of travel, and they helped me out so much. Per Jenny’s email, Jennie’s place was to the right of the Church’s Chicken and Burger King. I knocked on the door as hard as I could and down comes Jennie! Jennie is a wonderful volunteer who used to work at The Finca with Nick’s sister Jenny. They were there for a year together before Jennie moved to La Ceiba to be a house mom for some students there. Upon my arrival, the two of us talked for awhile and got to know each other. While we were talking, one of the girls who lives in the house asks Jennie in Spanish which brother of Jenny’s that I was dating. I let her know that I was dating her older brother Nick. She started laughing and blushing and then ushered me into her room to see the picture that she had hanging on the wall. It was of Nick! How random is that? Just when I got to feeling a little homesick, a sweet Honduran walked me into her room and there was Nick! She asked me if it was okay and I said yes of course. I said, that picture was taken before we started dating, so if you think about it, he’s all yours! She just laughed and seemed relieved. How funny! Nick let me know that Jenny showed his picture around while she was living at the finca and everyone loved his fur! How sweet. I wonder if they would like him now that he is plucking his eyebrows and manscaping. Jennie and I attempted to get some sleep last night, but the heat was stifling. I stuck to the thin sheet I was laying on all night and slept restlessly. Thank the dear lord for fans, because they have been my lifeline. I am sucking down water constantly and making sure that I stay hydrated. This island is pretty much a large dehydrating machine. I woke up this morning around 5:30. The sun comes up earlier it seems like. Also, I don’t have blackout curtains here, so that will definitely get me up sooner each day. I took a cold shower and then packed myself up again to head to the ferry. Jennie and I took a short walk around town to pick up eggs, cheese, and bananas so she could make the boys breakfast. Our walk was fun – La Ceiba has a pretty distinct smell. Trash mixed with salty ocean water and stale heat. I imagine that it can be miserable if you don’t keep an open mind and a positive attitude, but I was too excited to feel anything but anticipation! Jennie put me on a cab to the ferry and I jetted away from my new friend. After the short car ride, I bought my ticket for the ferry and waited. It leaves twice a day so I got there extra early to make sure I made it in time. I met an Irish couple who live in Utila and who talked to me about their daughter’s dive shop here, the Ecomarina. They told me where to eat and what to do and to look for them in their blue golf cart. I also met a couple my age from Colorado who had been backpacking for 5 months across Central and South America who were making their way back home. The gentlemen who sat next to me was from Norway. He was working on his thesis and traveling to Utila to dive. It’s amazing how many people you meet like yourself when traveling. I feel like I could have been fast friends with any of these people today. I hope to see the Irish couple around again, they were welcoming and very funny as most of the Irish seem to be. After a grueling, and I mean grueling hour long ferry ride, I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out onto the dock. There was a member of BICA waiting with a sign for me at the end of the dock, and I was happy to see her. After quite a long trip, it’s a good feeling to know that you’ve finally made it. She loaded me onto the back of her four wheeler and motored me to the BICA office. The building is a two story yellow building on the left side of the main road in Utila. I say the word road loosely. There are no cars here, only bicycles, golf carts, four wheelers, and dirt bikes. We motored down just a little ways, and here I am. At this point, I was soaking wet with sweat. It is incredibly hot this time of year, with no cool down in sight. Today it got up to 102. Heat like this seems to pull every ounce of life out of a person, I have been feeling utterly exhausted all day. I am 3 bottles of water deep in the last few hours, so no worries there. My room here at BICA is surprisingly nice. It is very standard, but I have my own bathroom complete with a small stand up shower and mirrorless sink. I feel like this is a blessing in disguise as I will not be looking my prettiest here. No makeup and constant sweat does not do much for a person in the looks department. I am excited about this sort of detoxification time here…no blow dryers, no flat irons, nothing but cold showers and soap. I am two cold showers in today, but I imagine more will be necessary in the days to come. The air is so heavy here it seems like you could cut through it with a knife. With the fan blowing directly on you though, it is bearable. Outside of my bathroom, there is a small room with a twin bed and a shelf. There are a few outlets in the room so that I can charge my computer and such, which I am grateful for. Down the hall from my room are a couple other living areas as well as a kitchen with a wonderful freezer! I will freeze my water bottle there and am so happy to have it! I went for a walk a little after I unpacked – It seems like there are quite a few restaurants here so I should be able to find some good things to eat. I am excited for the other volunteers to get here so that I can have friends to tag along with and have meals. I have not yet found a legitimate grocery store. However, I did find a place that sold tortillas, so those should get me through until I can get to a bank. It didn’t take long into my walk for me to get too tired to go on, so I stopped into this building called The Whale Shark and Ocean Research Center. They take groups of 8 everyday out to snorkel with whale sharks. It costs $59 for a 4 hour trip. I signed up just in case I have time tomorrow. Is this really my life right now? I will be snorkeling with the largest fish in the ocean tomorrow? I don’t even know how I’m sitting here right now. I’m resting up tonight and hopefully getting started bright and early tomorrow!

April 29, 2010

Woke up tired and hot today. I am going to go ahead and assume that will be the norm for the next few weeks. You know what, I am okay with that. You have to compromise when you travel, and I have fans, so I’m not going to complain. The sleeping situation is good. I’m not sleeping on a straw mat like in Taiwan. I have an inch thick mattress type pad this time, so it’s not too bad. That straw mat sure did whip me into shape last summer. Now, I can fall asleep on the floor, or in the dirt, camping, pretty much anywhere. I didn’t get back to BICA (Bay Islands Conservation Association, the group I’m volunteering for) until around 10. 10 p.m. here feels like 2 a.m. so I was ready to go to sleep. I think showering three times a day is something that is unavoidable here. The air is so hot and humid that it feels like someone is smearing warm honey all over your body. I sat down on my bed and thought…There is no way that I can get into my bed right now. This thin sheet will stick to me and I won’t ever be able to get out. Showers here are wonderfully cold year round, but last night, I wasn’t feeling it. I got out some wet wipes and cleaned up. The only thing I really care about keeping clean is my feet. Dirty feet are not okay for me, especially when trying to sleep. At home, I usually wash my feet in the bathtub most nights before hitting the pillow. Last night though, wet naps sufficed. Yesterday around 4 p.m., Eduardo, another volunteer here from the mainland, came up and asked if I he could show me around. I don’t have any friends here yet, so I said sure, that’d be awesome. He showed me where I could find a grocery store, good restaurants, and good bars. He seemed to be most interested in the good bar part of things, so I just followed him around while he talked about different things we saw. Our first stop was at this bar, and I say bar loosely, called Babalu. The best way that I can describe Babalu is in shapes. You walk in, think rectangular room. Next a square. Each side of the square is made up of a dock. So a high up square shaped dock with rickety wood and high stilts. The middle of the square is completely open showcasing the transparent green ocean below. The area is roughly 7 by 7 I would say. Eduardo and I sat down and watched the water – in about ten minutes, I saw a manta ray, a parrot fish, a blue trumpet fish, brain coral, a lobster, angel fish, blue tangs, and a myriad of other colorful fish. He grabbed a couple of beers for us, Salva Vida, apparently the local staple, and I sipped enough to get the beer in the bottle down to the bottom of the neck. I eventually told him I hated beer and didn’t drink the stuff, but I tried at least. The sun went down while we were sitting there, and on both sides of me I could see boats and lights and beautiful sunshine hitting the little waves. It was picturesque in such a ridiculous way. We left Babalu and walked to the part of town “that I should never walk through without accompaniment” Eduardo said. There are nice big houses with huge decks from time to time, most certainly from foreigners who choose Utila as a vacation place. Because Utila is a long skinny island, you can pretty much see the ocean no matter where you go (well, you can’t see it from BICA but I’m not here to complain) and the air smells like salt. I saw a lady walking around with a plastic bag yesterday full of whole fish. It was kind of sad, the only reason I knew they were whole fish is because the bag had wrapped completely around the eye of one of them and it was kind of like glaring at me as she walked by. Not okay one eyed fish, not okay. Eduardo showed me all kinds of flowers and trees here. A man who cross pollinates trees and flowers to produce new species lives here and his work is everywhere. Purple hibiscus, bright blue acacia, the flowers are wonderful. There are almonds tress and mango trees and things I cannot identify. Apparently almonds here are in low demand – no one likes them so they just fall to the ground and rot. I told Eduardo that he should figure out a way to export them because in the US they are not cheap. It’s strange how one person’s trash is someone else’s treasure. While walking, Eduardo ran into two people that he had taken on a tour a year earlier in La Ceiba. We all went to a place called Coco Loco to watch the sun go down. The couple was on vacation from their home in Canada after a recent and awful accident in their lives. Their son was hit by a car and hit frontal lobe in his brain was severely injured. His skull did not crack of fracture so his brain just kept swelling and swelling. He was kept in a drug induced come for two months until it was decided that his brain size had decreased. The pair told me that their son was only 19, and now lives with a completely changed personality, no memory, and an aversion to anything that he once loved. His job opportunities are virtually non-existent now, and they just had to get away. They came to Honduras for two weeks to clear their heads. I can’t imagine going through that, so I just sat with them and listened, I think that was all they were wanting. The four of us decided unanimously that it was time to fill our bellies. We ended up at this Italian restaurant called La Piccola. Funny how Italy follows me around no matter where I am. I had fresh Tuna from the ocean with olives, capers, and tomatoes with rice and sweet carrots. It was definitely a 9. So good. The couple took care of our check, which I protested, but they explained that here things are so affordable that they loved being able to do things like that whereas at home, they sometimes could not. I only have American dollars right now, so it was probably for the best. I need to call Arvest, because APPARENTLY, they don’t like it when their people leave the country and forget to tell them about it. My to do list was so long before I left that I just forgot. I had a few Lempiras (Honduran currency) that Jennie had given me for the taxi, leftover, so I went to a little place on the side of the road and bought a bag of tortillas and ate them throughout the day yesterday to keep my hunger down. That being said, dinner was a nice treat. After leaving the restaurant, we went to show the Canadians Babalu, which they seemed to really enjoy. I was exhausted, so Eduardo walked me back to BICA. I skyped for a little while, working on the book I’m reading right now, A Thousand Splendid Sons, and fell asleep as best as I could. I have three open windows in my room and bathroom, so the sounds of all the lizards, blaaaaaaaaaakkkk blaaaaaakkkkk and the sounds of golf carts honking coupled with the heat made for somewhat of a restless night. I woke up this morning when the sun came up. I didn’t bring a watch with me to Honduras, so I have no idea what time it is at any given time of the day. I know that I am an hour before CST, but time doesn’t really seem to matter here. Like this morning, I got up, got dressed, went downstairs to the BICA office, and no one is here. I am not sure where everyone is or if anyone is even awake yet, but it’s nice for me. I can wake up slow. I brought some Quaker Oatmeal with me, apples and cinnamon, the best and only good kind of oatmeal. We have a makeshift kitchen here with a fridge and an oven. I couldn’t figure out how to get the stovetop to work, so I had to figure out a way to make me water warm for my oatmeal. A coffee maker was on the counter top, so I poured some water through there and let er rip. The lukewarm coffee tasting water didn’t do much for my oatmeal, but I ate it as quick as possible so I didn’t have to taste my watery gruel. I’ll have to figure out this eating situation today, because not eating enough has left me perpetually exhausted. I gave most of my food away to Jennie the other day – she’d been there for over a year so it was the least I could do. I can’t imagine that much time going by and not having any taste of home. She loved the beef jerky and twix and snickers – it was an experience for her. She even sent me an email thanking me, it made her less homesick I think. So now I sit and wait until I hear someone walking around. I need to be Alban’s (the French volunteer who is here now) shadow today I was told, but I am not even sure if he came home last night. Apparently he likes to drink quite a bit, so there is a carton of empty beer bottles in the kitchen. We recycle here, so good for him for remembering even in his drunken stupor.

“Sometimes they kill tourists” – when we heard gunshots today…Alban says to me when we were sitting on our tree house like porch. Awesome. Gunshots from my porch. That’s fine, I can roll with it. Apparently the crazy poachers are killing the swampers, iguanas that are endemic to this area who are highly endangered because they only live on Utila. Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna find me some poachers. Unfortunately for me, all I can do is take their pictures and turn them into the government who probably won’t do anything. How can you punish a family who is poor and just trying to feed their kids. You can’t. Either way, we will track them and see what we can do. I haven’t seen an iguana yet, but I’m told they are everywhere. Another NGO here is an iguana rescueing sort of place down the way. I’ll head there next week. I got my “orders” today. My to do list for the month I’m here. There are two enormous wooden square cut outs that eventually need to turn into wonderfully decorated and impossibly artistic informational boards about The Mesoamerican Coral Reef and the mangroves. Obviously, I already started researching and have enough information to fill that bad boy up. Large wooden plank #1 that is. Mangroves are a little harder for me to get excited about, but wait – there is a way to fix that. In lieu of mother’s day coming up, I am helping out at the school doing an educational outreach/art project sort of deal entitled – Why my mother is like a mangrove. Perfect. I am going to make my mom some sort of souvenir. I’m not sure how much she’ll appreciate being likened to a mangrove, but hey, it’s worth a shot. The employees of BICA asked me today – so how comfortable are you with children? What age do you want to teach? Elementary, junior high, or high school? I didn’t respond….is that bad? She says okay, you’re nervous. Don’t worry, after five minutes, you’ll be okay. So I guess I’ll just dive into that. My other duties here include six hours of office work a day. This work will encompass a lot of things I understand like helping to design the BICA Visitor’s Center and doing some whale shark identification stuff, reef watch, overall condition of the oceans and animals in it, etc. Then the marine and terrestrial patrolling for dumping, poaching, and animal observation. I met the boat driver today while walking down the road, Victor. It seems like half of this island’s members are African American. They say that they are not descendents of Africa, but of the islands. They say this is where their story began and that they are not descendents of slaves. It’s interesting how serious they are about it. I am not sure if I should tell them otherwise or not, but hey, I could be wrong. They are good people, Victor was great. He should be here bright and early to get me. He promised that he would show me everything from top to bottom and make sure that we saw a whale shark. It is very lucky and quite difficult to actually see one even though they live around here. My fingers are double crossed, for that would be another slash for my bucket list. It’s incredible how many American expats are here. I ran into this redneckkkk guy from Alabama today. He sounded like he was from the Louisiana Bayou, a thick southern drawl that was almost like another language. How did he get here, why is he here, what’s his story? I should ask him. I told him I was his neighbor, from Arkansas, to which he responded “well, I guess it’s kinder down my wey.” Um…hello? Arkansas is the South and I’d appreciate it if people would quit acting like it’s a dang Midwestern state! That’s a little bit of southern pride speaking I guess. I don’t even know why I have it, it’s not like I stay at home all that much. I ran into the Canadian couple this afternoon. The two of them, Alban, Eduardo, and myself have a dinner date tomorrow so that is exciting. Alban and I went to the beach today. It was my first time over there and it was wonderfullll. Green like in the Caribbean commercials, but even more incredible because of the way the warm salty water makes the dozens and dozens of bug bites I have stop itching, if even for a second. I forgot to pack my hydrocortisone cream. Why oh why did I do that? I have no words. En route to the beach this afternoon, I stopped in at a dive shop here called Ecomarine to see if I might want to get scuba certified. I haven’t decided yet. I’m pretty partial to snorkeling myself, but we’ll see how it goes. After leaving, Alban and I were talking about how ridiculously dirty we both are all the time here, and BAM, a bird pooped on my arm out of nowhere! The irony. I guess that will be the last time I complain. After a dinner of a peanut butter and strawberry jam tortilla sandwhich, a green banana, and two twizzlers, I’m ready to get a much needed shower and some rest in preparation for my first real adventure in the morning.

April 30^th, 2010

I woke up this morning around 4 a.m. due to the 57 (yes, I counted them) sand flea bites I have on my legs. Just my legs, nowhere else. From what I have learned about these supposed sand fleas, I’ve got their identity pinned down. They are definitely chiggers, so anyone from our part of the country can understand how maddening they are. You can’t see them until you have bites all over you. The Hondurans say that all you have to do is cover your legs in baby oil and they will just stick to you instead of bite you. I’m going to buy some later today along with anti-itch cream and maybe some benadryl. I was up and around today by 5:30 due to the sun coming up in the window next to my head, so I made some oatmeal and gathered up my things for patrolling at 6:45. Chelle, a guide here at BICA picked me up on her four-wheeler and we headed off to get on the boat. The boat is parked in the lagoon which is unfortunately completely full of trash – I’m talking couches, dirt bikes, big trash. It’s so sad that things just get dumped off into the ocean like that, especially in a place as beautiful as Utila. Chelle, myself, Victor, and “The General” headed out at 7 and got to “work” which consisted of driving around the island and looking for fisherman who were fishing for conch, lobsters, turtles, and red snapper, a few of the protected creatures in this area. We saw a few suspect looking fisherman, but nothing turned up with them. After boating around the island for some time, we needed a cool down. My diving friend and I jumped out into the water and started snorkeling. By the time all was said and done, the two of us had probably gone the length of three football fields away from the boat, which is a pretty scary feeling when you lift your head up and have no idea where you are. Maybe that is a few too many episodes of “You Shouldn’t Be Alive” talking, but diving in the open water basically alone is not the most settling thing one can do. On my dive today, I saw an enormous manta ray, a barracuda, dozens of intensely beautiful angelfish, platefish, damsels, parrot fish, a puffer fish, and of course the fan coral and brain coral. Underwater is so relaxing. It’s nice to look down and realize that the world as we know it is nothing compared to this underground blue planet. The structures underwater are so complex yet so wonderfully simple that I sometimes wish I could stay down forever. Swimming is a little too tiring for that though. After snorkeling, we headed to The Cays to drop off something to the school there. The General showed me around the place. It’s a tiny island off of Utila with a population of about 500. Some of the people stay there their entire lives. The mayor just built a stone walkway there and it was described to me as being a huge advancement. As we’re walking down in the cay, Ricardo gives away his barely touched pineapple juice to a little girl who is sitting on the sidewalk in the sun. We walk on and up comes this open room area off the main sidewalk / street. Five men, probably around my age, are huddled around a pot of water, coral, and a banana. Ricardo told me that they have nothing, not even food to eat, but that they are so much better off here in Honduras. I asked him if the government gives money to public works for the people and he said “maybe, but it doesn’t get to people like this. People down there drop down with hunger.” On our way out, he handed one of the men a 100 lempira note. Here I am, walking down the sidewalk with a man who is a reporter for Utila, an employee of BICA, and the owner of his own soccer club – he is poor also – but he has an income. He says this is why he likes to give his money away so often, because he has sat on the sidewalk and been a beggar before, and he cannot not do something when he sees it happening. Ricardo has found a way to not walk that fine line in between enabling and helping. I am not sure how he does it, but he is truly incredible to walk down the street with. The way people look at him makes him seem like Robin Hood to me. Maybe that’s why they call him “The General.”

May 2, 2010

After I sulked around my room for a little while yesterday, I got up and headed down to the Mango Inn to have a pizza. There is a wood fire grill there, just like in Italia. I ordered myself a margherita pizza and some water, sat down at the bar by myself and watched the news about the oil spill in the gulf. I cannot even stand to think about how angry it makes me that hundreds of thousands of gallons of water are contaminated and so many ecosystems and species are being affected, let alone people. While I was sitting there, a lady, Gail, sat down beside me. We made small talk together, the usuals. Where are you from, what are you doing here, that sort of thing. Gail accompanied her son Dylan down to Utila so she could get him settled in for his Dive Master training course. Being 19, he has been going out on his own with his new friends, and his mom was left solo. Lucky for me, I am too! The two of us hit it off. She is a fellow traveler, and had some amazing stories. Her husband just got back from a trip to France with a man named JP. JP is a Frenchman who spends his life promoting boutique hotels. We’re talking 5,000 euro / night type of hotels. Because he is recently divorced and no longer takes his wife on his “work” trips, he now takes friends. Gail and her husband are lucky enough to be this man’s friend, so he takes them to France with him to travel and stay, even take cooking classes. What an incredible job. I want his job. Gail and I just got to talking, found we had a lot in common, and decided to spend today together. This morning I met her at her hotel which is at The Mango, and walked into her deliciously air conditioned room to say hello. You don’t realize how fantastic climate control is until you are out of the ac for a few days…man, it was awesome. I hesitantly left her room, and we headed out. There is a hotel here that you can only get to by boat. It’s called The Lagoon Resort, and Gail wanted to check it out. We went to the dive shop, per the bartender’s instructions, to inquire how we could get to this resort. The owner ended up taking us there on his dive boat and dropped us off so we could look around. When he meant drop us off, I guess he meant drop us off and not come back which we later found out was the case. I was totally okay with that. The resort is located on a tiny island with one side facing the lagoon and the other side facing the ocean. It feels like a private island. When we stepped off the boat, I walked through the brush and Gail and I just started laughing. We laughed the kind of laugh that you have whenever there are no words in the English language that we can employ at a specific moment because the place you are looking at leaves you speechless. 180 degrees of nothing but the most gorgeous ocean, white sand, hammocks, white wooden lounge chairs, and a pool shaped like a whale shark (with a whale shark also painted on the inside)...true paradise. I changed into my swimsuit and jumped in the pool. We probably weren’t supposed to jump in the pool of a resort we weren’t staying at, but hey, when in Rome. Gail quickly followed suit. Eventually we had two beers in our hand and we were just a laughin up a storm. A half hour of waiting eventually turned into about 4 hours. We spent those four hours moving our lounge chairs into the surf and just sitting, listening to the quiet, the wind, and the waves. We talked about her children and her husband, and the happy life she leads. We shared travel stories and soaked in the rays. I fell asleep in a hammock for a while, the cherry on top of course. There was no one on the beach or in the pool but us. No one. The resort books for $1200 a week, which is an enormous sum here, so not many people stay. We were lucky enough to come at a time when there were no residents, so we took full advantage. The sun here is so direct due to the location of the equator that it didn’t take us long to get our fill of the sun. I slathered on sun block to no avail. I was crispy in just a matter of minutes. I managed to come out with a flip-flop line on my feet and sunburned upper back and shoulders, but that is it. Much longer, and I wouldn’t have been sleeping too well tonight. After the hours passed, we got a little hungry so we decided to figure out how to get back to the mainland. The dive masters at the lagoon were wonderful. They shuttled us to the bank of the island and called a tuc-tuc for us. Picture a small three wheeler with a roof on it. We rode the tuc-tuc back to the mango and I headed home for a half of a PB and J and the rest of my pineapple. I’m here nursing my shoulders now, letting them air out with some lotion and a fan, and loving this day. What a wonderful Sunday it has been so far. Gail and I are meeting at La Piccola for dinner at 6:30, which will no doubt be as fabulous as the first time I ate there. The fish there is so fresh it seems like it might jump off the plate. The rice is so fluffy and good, I have no idea how they make it so good. I cannot wait. For now, it’s siesta time. Hondurans sure do have life down to a science.